Omega Metro Precinct 2077
by Osage
Summary: Have you ever wondered why Omega is a the hopeless place that it is? So have the police officers of the 2077th Metro Precinct in Omega.
1. Blue Bloods

**A/N: Hi folks. I've been inspired by Aeternix's stories and decided to create a collection of vignettes myself. I've always been curious about the state of law enforcement in Omega. Sure it's a crazy lawless place but you have to wonder if somewhere out there there isn't that one squad that's meant to be a buffer between the rich and the poor. The thugs and the citizens. The good from the evil. That buffer is Omega Metro Precinct 2077 and this is the story of Omega's last leg of law enforcement. Enjoy!**

* * *

**22:00 hours June 1 2185—Kima slums district—Omega. (Mac Walters, human Chief of Police aka Commissioner)  
**

The dingy apartment wasn't what you'd call first class. Hell it wasn't even fit for last class let alone royalty. A part of me hoped this was a mistake, perhaps this was some other asari in a seedy part of town, in with the wrong crowd who just happened to resemble Aria's daughter.

No such luck.

Detective-Sargent Joe Rikshaw and his batarian partner Sargent Zane moved aside as I approached and confirmed the end of my career. Lying in a tangle of sheets was the soft and beautiful face of the asari princess herself, Liselle.

Say what you will about the queen bee, but her kid was innocent. Well as innocent as one could get in a drainage ditch like Omega. Criminal pathologist doctor Ross hunkered down over Liselle, his ashen face matched the color of his white lab coat and didn't need any deciphering. The young technician beside him must've been new because I couldn't recall her name. But the woman clearly hadn't lived in Omega long enough to realize who we were dealing with, she just went about dusting for prints as if this were any other murder.

I sighed inwardly. There was no sense in asking what we've got, it was murder plain as day. The one thing in Omega you could actually get away with thanks to the corrupt office I inherited from the previous chief of police.

"Do we have anything?" I asked Rikshaw, trying to be hopeful.

He turned his weather beaten face my way and shook his head. I tried not to flinch at the sight of the 'beautiful' scar that gave him a second twisted smile. I'm the freaking chief after all and therefore couldn't show a shred of discomfort.

Zane, the usually quirky batarian beside him blinked all of his eyes and backed well and far away. Another smart one, 'distance yourself as fast as you can' seems to be tonight's modus operandi. Rikshaw only crossed his muscled arms and just stared at Liselle as if to ask, why?

Rikshaw was an Omega vet whose reputation preceded him. He used to be a cop back on Earth for the violent crimes unit in New York. A long time ago that actually meant something until a shitstorm of events set his compass to Omega. Now he was just a big fish in a shallow pond, playing it safe and staying alive. Hell he could've had my job but the bastard was smart...unlike me who only saw the dollar signs when the position opened up.

Doc Ross had inhaled too much of the smell of death and was starting to resemble a corpse. Despite that the stubborn fool unfolded his kit and began scanning with his omni-tool, gathering as much as he could. I had to stomp on the instinct to stop him, it was a useless endeavor in this case but who knew. Maybe lady luck would decide to show her titties when it mattered.

Rikshaw moved to survey the scene from a different angle, his cold lifeless eyes were bottomless pits of analysis. Must be a _real_ _cop_ thing.

"Cause of death, doc?" I asked, taking some sick form of pleasure in the way the usually bubbly man jumped. It was a fine night for dying, so what were a few stupid questions.

Ross heaved and put a pudgy hand to his chest. His young technician threw him one look of disgust before meeting my eyes.

"Well, chief, looks like her throat was slit," she answered as if I were mentally challenged, sarcasm to the max. The young woman was beautiful, a bit arrogant and superior but those calm brown eyes had a sense of professionalism that would be missed once Omega was done with her. It's too bad I won't live long enough to get to know this one.

As we sized eachother up doc Ross extracted another swab, attempting to dab at the royal blood that stained all around Liselle's throat. It fell into the pool of blue just like the two before it.

I couldn't take it anymore and plopped down on a cheap wooden stool by the ancient desk. _Who the hell used real wood in this day and age anyways?_

The doc's shaking hand finally managed to collect a tiny blood sample which he bagged immediately. For fuck's sake this was all he was capable of tonight, there was no point in torturing him further.

"Doc, why don't you bring that to the lab. Your lovely lady here can recover the rest." I said, feeling a sense of disdain when Ross gave her a cautious glance. My orders were supposed to be absolute, but maybe just like everything else in this place that too was an illusion.

The young woman agreed with a quick reassuring nod of her head and Ross almost tripped over himself collecting his samples. When he had an armful, a packet dropped to the floor. Rikshaw scooped it up and his grey eyes shot to his partner. "Zane."

The batarian who was hoping no one would notice his quiet exit, shot his partner a miserable look only to light up when Rikshaw motioned to the evidence. "Help him get that to the lab."

Cops wouldn't be caught dead hauling crap for the egg heads. But I had to admire Rik's tactics, it was a sure way of securing the evidence and getting his squeamish partner as far away from the impending chaos as possible all in one go. Of course if all of my batarian brothers worked for the queen bee and I found myself on the other side of the blues with her dead daughter at my feet, I'd also book it.

Zane hefted some of the tech crap while Ross dashed out with his little bundle of bagged evidence. As Rikshaw walked them to the door I snaked a finger in that secret pocket I wasn't supposed to have and took a cigarette I wasn't supposed to smoke.

"There's no smoking in here."

I raised a brow, my light just inches from the cancer stick that was going to make all this better. Not many people ordered the chief of police around, let alone a lowly tech. But there was spunk to this girl so what the hell?

I swallowed my smile and stuffed the cigarette back to where it came from. "You must be new," I asked, not trying to sound superior or anything just stating fact.

She nodded and returned to her work. DNA was clearly more important than the police commissioner standing before her.

Rik was saying something about a 'meat wagon' into his comm by the door, but I drowned most of it out, opting to study the woman at work. Her hands flowed methodically over Liselle, checking every fingernail, for debris and expertly bagging all she found.

"Where are you from?" I asked, hoping she didn't take offense at me not asking her name. What was the point? In this city if you were competent you'd eventually wake up and move away. Most crawled back to where they came from after a stint on Omega.

"Central control," she replied, without looking up from her work. I laughed a little. Fast on her feet. I like that.

Rikshaw's boots disturbed the peace with their heavy thud. "The coroner was on his way to recover the body. I told central control to hold him," Rik said, in a voice that sounded like a saw cutting through bone. There was a reason the scum of Omega cowered at his name.

I nodded and took a big gulp of air, trying to suck as much of it in as I could. The tech shot Rik a questioning look, but he only stared at me. There was no emotion in that face, no pity or sympathy just a calm understanding of what was going to happen and a tactical move to prevent any civilians from getting hurt.

"Good," I said, getting up. Rik's eyes stuck to me like glue. As if he's never seen a dead man walking. "Well it's been a pleasure Ms?"

"We still have work to do," she protested, looking to Rik for support. Now that was funny. Sorry sweathart but even the ultimate lawman won't hang back to become cannon fodder.

"We're done here," Rikshaw said before I got the chance to. Her surprised eyes moved to his, she must have seen something she didn't like because her second round of protest came with a serrated edge. "I can still lift more matter from the crime scene."

"I have a lead," Rik seceded. Now her eyes grew wide in time with my own, if Rikshaw had a lead then maybe this wasn't my last night. "Her throat was slit with a mono-molecular blade," he said.

The tech huffed in disbelief. "How could you possibly know that? And even if you did, that tells us nothing."

Rikshaw only gave me one of his rare smiles that stretched his scar to make him look menacing. I nodded in recognition of the nugget I've been given and smiled back. But we both knew it wouldn't be enough. "You want this one?" I asked, as both of us ignored the puzzled woman.

Rik's silence was disturbed with a slight nod of his head. The first sign of hesitance I've seen from him. If you could call that hesitance. I patted my top cop on the shoulder. "Don't let me down." Then turned back to lady love who looked angry now. "Come now don't pout. There'll be plenty of blood and guts for you to pick through. Pack your gear and go with Rikshaw." When she looked ready to say something I dropped the niceties and added, "Now."

She finally got with the program and gathered her stuff, shooting me a dirty look as she did so. Huh, figures. I caught a glimpse of her name tag as she breezed past. Cathy. Cute name for one so naive to the ways of Omega.

Rikshaw looked after her and I nodded him along. "You're staying." He made the question sound like a statement.

"Don't have a choice." I shrugged. "Find out who did this. Then tell my successor to watch his back," I added, trying to make it sound like a joke but failing miserably. "Now go. It's dark outside and you have a pretty technician waiting for you all by herself."

Rik started to move, taking each step with a heavy measured precision as if it were his last. I listened to the sound, noticing how each thud was in tune with my syncopating heartbeat. Just like that the boots stopped.

I looked over to see Rikshaw at the doorway, contemplating something. Why couldn't the man just do his damn job and leave already?

The gloved gauntlet of his black armored uniform gripped the door-frame. "We always have a choice." It was all he said before disappearing through the door leaving me with cold night air, a dead body and one hell of an oncoming headache.

I chuckled at that and fished for my cigarette. Hell, maybe it would kill me faster than than the queen bee herself.

Or maybe...

My mouth grew slack. The unlit cigarette tumbled from my lips and hit the floor when I saw none other than Aria T'Loak striding towards me enraged. Her three goons, Anto, Grizz and Brey hung back with their assault rifles near the door. A little too late gentlemen.

Aria stepped over her daughter's dead body, she only had eyes for me and boy let me tell you if hell had a face...

Biotics seized me in an instant, scalding me in the process as her cold nimble fingers provided a deathly contrast. I felt my feet leave the ground as Aria tugged me up with ease thanks the blue energy surrounding her.

My vision started getting fuzzy as the pressure on my throat increased. I tried to say something but only made strangled sounds.

"I put you in charge, Mac." Her eyes were midnight black, no feeling, just pure rage now. "I pay you to look after my interests. I pay you to do your job."

"—Ari..a—" I manage to choke out. If only the damn woman would listen then I'd have something to say. But this was Aria. Worse, this was Aria the grieving mother.

"So." She leaned her face close to mine until I could smell the blood, sweat and tears of a hundred people like me. "What. Is. This?"

"Lead..." I wheezed out as my vision flickered black. I could feel my throat constricting, all that tissue grinding against itself, tearing under the pressure. It wouldn't be long now.

She smiled wickedly. I kid you not the woman actually smiled or at least I thought she did before her biotics flared and she screamed in a fit of rage.

A movie started playing in my vision. I don't know why but suddenly a kid flashed before my eyes, the little thing squealed as it was wrapped in a blanket...the wind suddenly rushed through my hair as I rode through a grassy knoll...the smell of sweat and beer permeated the air as a strangled cry sounded beneath me...

Only pitch black eyes stared at me now.

Pitch black until all I could see was...

Nothing.


	2. Narc

**01:00 hours. June 1 2185—Kima slums district—Omega. (Quarian Corporal Meera Tarsim, Narcotics Division.)**_**  
**_

When people think of a Narc they usually see a roguish young man fresh out of the academy. He is usually dressed in pathetic human clothes and some blue piece of fabric to remind himself what side of the law he's really on. Then he's shoved out the door and asked to catch bad guys.

Then of course there is the temptation of becoming a user or worse... a dealer. Then if he's still alive, his priority will be in keeping his face covered from anyone who might want to shoot it off.

What no one considered was a woman like me in this line of work. You can't see through a quarian's mask which makes us the perfect narcotics officers.

The enviro-suit which used to brand me as a gutter rat is now my best asset. It's the easiest way to pretend to take drugs and the drug users are none-the-wiser since there's hardly any brain cells left in them. Yes, this suit is quite literally a lifesaver. It's also the reason I'm stuck in a smelly back alley with a package of the best shit Metro precinct 2077 can produce.

In other words, a case full of crushed aspirins mixed with drink crystals speckled lightly with de-mineralized red sand. The techs assured me it was enough to cause a staggering euphoria for a limited amount of time and make the user hallucinate biotic effects. But I already knew that. Any idiot could see that a salicylic was preferable when cutting a dextro-based compound like red sand. In fact if more dealers practiced that sort of safeguard there would be fewer deaths from overdose...and ironically I would be out of the job. However, it didn't matter how strong the imitation is. All I need is to catch him in the act of making a direct transaction. I smiled to myself beneath the mask. This mission was ending today, for better or for worse it was finally going to end.

Four months of intelligence gathering, which mostly involved living, breathing and dreaming about the art of red sand, finally led up to this meeting. I can't screw this up. This is our best shot at infiltrating the 14K outfit on Omega.

"_Thermal team here, we have movement inside the premises they're coming up to the door,"_ one of the SWAT techs said through my comm. I didn't even shudder. This was such a common part of my everyday existence, but I had to remind myself that the SWAT boys were having a field day.

"_Pipe down. I want a silent op until Corporal Tarsim gives the signal,"_ Lex Riley's sharp voice cut through. He always had to be the hardass.

"_Yes sir."_ They replied with the jaded enthusiasm of disciplined school children.

But I had no time to stand there and visualize their embarrassment because the peep hole slid open and a man who was going to die a very violent death one day stared back at me with unforgiving eyes.

I didn't say anything and neither did he. The stare down was a sacred ritual among drug dealers on Omega. Searching the other's eyes for deception was a show of proper respect. But I think they all just want a moment for their brains to catch up with the real world.

His dumb round eyes finally dropped to the suitcase at my side. A present for his master. Something clicked in that brain of his and he opened the door.

"Upstairs. He's expecting you,"

"No shit?" I reply, sauntering past him. The thug frowned, he's bigger than I imagined and now standing in front of all that destructive muscle I suddenly wished I had Rikshaw's intimidating physique. Now there was a man who could put the fear of Keelah into this fool.

I take the stairs, and that's putting it generously because they are not stairs but more like a delicate catwalk designed to look elegant but made of cheap bamboo in reality. I prayed that the big idiot would wait until I reached the top before following.

No such luck. I felt the ground sway under his heavy mass, but thankfully the next step brought me to level two and closer to Ying Ko.

A ruthless drug lord, Ying Ko was known as 'the last of the purists'. His strain of Red Sand was the most potent of any in the galaxy, but his unique marketing strategy of creating a shortage by synthesizing a few batches a year and then selling them to the highest bidder resulted in the best intergalactic narcotic empire since...Ever! Intel showed his superiors on earth were not pleased with his greed, but they just had to sit on their thumbs because as far as Ying was concerned he was their only inter-galactic ambassador and as far as I could tell, they don't want to piss him off.

"_Remember, we need a direct transaction with Ko. Or we have nothing to stand on when the case gets thrown out,"_ Lex's voice reminded me through our link. How I wish I could just shut him up. It's not my first day on the job.

I was ushered to the 'great room' as the goons dubbed it. We passed many on the way, stuffed with all forms of vermin. Unpaid laborers working illegally on Omega, some were red sand addicts, others just unlucky to be poor. They all had masks over their faces as they worked, squeezing syringes and mixing fine red powder.

The opium of Omega. Keelah who am I kidding? If this were an opium operation I could put my feet up and ignore it.

The goods move aside and let me enter first. It was like walking into the palace of the first emperor. The dingy dark place with cheap bamboo was suddenly replaced with gleaming gold furniture and red carpets. An ornate chandelier hung from the ceiling, rattling a little when I carelessly let the door clamp shut behind me.

Ying Ko's guest room was clearly a place of business meant to intimidate or welcome new partnerships. I felt neither as I strolled in. Perhaps I have spent too much time in the gutter to appreciate a good false impression.

"You must be the connect." I looked up to see Ying Ko with a trusted batarian bodyguard practically attached to his hip. Strange, no one mentioned muscle for this meeting. But years of practice would not let my body tense up. Any sign of discomfort would give me away and failure was not an option here.

I put a hand to my hip, trying my best to look impatient as they stared me down. It seemed to work as they descended down the velvety steps.

"Ying Ko," I answered, letting my voice do the seducing as I sidled over to greet him. His clammy hands grasped mine and I felt the plump slobber of his lips right through my suit. I made a mental note to use extra anesthetic for tonight's suit swap. "You are such a gentleman."

"Why of course, Ms. Sala. I aim to please my future partners." Ying Ko walked on with a subtle limp. That recent _business_ disagreement with Aria clearly left lasting effects. At thirty-two he wasn't old by any means. Yet something in his striking grey eyes seemed wise…if not a bit jaded already.

Ying led me to the expensive looking couch which the workers next door only saw in art show pictures. I eyed the batarian as he stood guard at the stairs, straight as a post. His thick armor was a little too well prepared for my liking. Cyclonic modulators and external shields, nothing I couldn't handle if the situation changed. But the margin for error narrowed with his presence.

"Some champagne perhaps?" Ying asked, peeking beneath his spiked hair as he stretched out on the couch, both arms along its length.

I had no choice but to sit in close proximity and incline my head as if I were interested in his pathetic attempt to woo me. "That sounds lovely. But why don't we get down to business?"

"When there's so much pleasure to be had?" Something in the way his mouth formed a cocky grin reminded me of Lex.

But maybe that's because his voice coached me from the other end. _"Fucking amateur, he's so screwed. Keep it cool Meera, play along."_

I sighed and leaned close to the drug dealer's ear. "I think there is room for both in this business."

I could practically feel him undressing me with his gaze. Thank god for the enviro-suit.

Ying Ko shifted under my attention, trying to follow my every move. His eyes grew, aided by lust and whatever other chemicals he pumped himself with tonight. I resisted the urge to shake my head in dismay.

If this were the migrant fleet he would already be executed for his crimes. I don't agree with most of that raggedy fleet's rules but a swift execution for the wicked is something I can get behind. Four months living in his gutters, talking to his users, his partners, four months have told me what lurked in the heart of this man and it made me sick.

"_Medvidus here, we have movement outside the compound."_ My heart relaxed at the sound of the turian's voice. It was good to know friends had your back and in a matter of moments I would be allowed to walk among them in peace again. It made me eager to bust this bosh'tet and rejoin my rightful squad.

"_Stand-by. But don't hesitate to end him if he tries anything funny," _The krogan team captain's voice replied.

"_Shut the hell up and save it for private comms. We have a live op here!" _Lex barked so loudly I thought the sound might escape my suit and warn my unsuspecting criminal. But one look at his wandering eyes told me he was busy appreciating finer things in life.

"So what's on the table, Ms. Sala?" Ying asked, glancing to the briefcase I had yet to open.

"No. I need to see that I'm selling my strain to a worthy producer, Mr. Ko." I drew away from him, meeting his twinkling eyes. Yes, something was definitely working the human's brain into mush.

A dark look crossed his eyes. But before I could panic it was replaced with an aloof smile as if he was fighting to stay serious despite the chemicals in his system. His batarian bodyguard returned with a cart of champagne, some dextro-compatible food and a small tray of red powder.

I smiled widely beneath my mask. This was damn too easy. "Yes, this is what I had in mind."

"You're sure you didn't have other things in mind?" Ying Ko pressed, as he snagged the bottle and started to uncork it. This was now or never, time to look pretty for the camera. I lifted the small bowel when my drone peeped through the window and took pictures.

"_Nice and easy Meera. Get him in the frame," _Lex said with a hushed breath. I expertly extracted a small portion of red sand into a tube, preparing to ration it just right for my emergency induction port. Ying Ko studied me like a kid on Christmas waiting for his big prize. _"Got him, Meera. Get out of there."_

I stopped the tube's trajectory towards my feeding port. Ying Ko frowned. "Is something the matter?"

I shook my head. "No, I just need to freshen up. I brought a new applicator that will send it intravenously if I can compound it. May I use your facilities?"

Ying Ko nodded and his bodyguard motioned towards an ornate gold door just steps away. It wasn't the most ideal placement but it would give me the perfect shelter for the raid. I excused myself and made a sultry beeline for the bathroom, deliberately keeping his attention from the door. The minute I was in the safe confines of the bathroom I coughed into my communicator. It was too unsafe to give a code.

"_She's clear. Move in."_ At Lex's command I heard the symphony of windows breaking to the tune of flashbangs. Scuttles and panic turned into gunshots heard both above and below.

When the sounds ceased I pocketed my sample and prepared my exit. The plan was to have them chase after me so as not to blow my cover.

I opened the door a crack and met the dazed eyes of Ying Ko as his head was forced against the floor under Herc boot. Ying glared as he struggled against the krogan but he was too drugged up to do any damage. Several officers were already confiscating hidden guns from the furniture and cabinets. Another source of good intelligence from my contact.

I would have loved to stay there and savor the moment but I had a cover to maintain and a team to get back to. Lex's distinct footsteps sounded from the stairs before he appeared. From my little perch near the door I saw my boss for the first time in months. He hadn't changed a bit. That cocky grin beneath his half-helm only widened when he took it off to reveal an eye patch over his left eye. The gold shield of a Sargent's rank dangled from his neck as he knelt down by Ying Ko.

"You are so fucked my friend." Lex smiled, then sharply turned my way. I played my part by slamming the door shut and running for the window.

"_Rookie, get on her!" _I heard Herc yell through the comms as I vaulted out the window. _"Which one of you dumbasses forgot to check the bathroom?"_

It was hard to keep from laughing as I landed in a pile of garbage below. Herc was always a hot head, but this particular operation was proving him a lot more capable an actor than I thought.

There wasn't time to shake the slippery garbage from my suit so I dashed into the alley at full speed. Call it living on the edge but there was some excitement to be had at doing a good run through the streets I called home. My turian friend was not far behind, poor Leto was always stuck doing leg work but just because we were friends didn't mean I was going to go soft on him.

I turned into an alley and dove into another just below it. The stench of poverty, despair and a chaos hit my suit, but I refused to let it slow me down. I was free. Finally free! I couldn't wait to see everyone I was not allowed to contact all this time. My friends, good neighbors and of course my parents. This city was an endless pit of despair if you let it get to that. But running through its streets now with Leto chasing me, I felt happy.

"I think we can stop now," Leto called out between breaths. Awe, how cute. The turian was giving up.

"Come on Medvidus. You don't want me to slow down, do you?" I shouted back. But the split second of distraction made me trip and pitch forward at the same time as Leto tackled me. Leto's armor protected me from the jagged bumps as we fell, head over heels before coming to a stop. We rolled into a jumbled mess of laughs at the bottom of some crumbling stairs. His rifle skittered a few feet away.

I looked down to Leto, loving the way his mandibles quivered with exertion and laughter. "Remind me to never challenge you to a foot race again."

I laughed and pushed myself off of him. "Don't tell me you're getting soft, Leto?"

"Me? Never." He grasped my outstretched hand and stood. That smile grew wider as he looked me up and down and suddenly I felt a little self conscious. "It's good to have you back, Meera."

"It's good to be back," I replied and handed him his trusted Banshee assault rifle. That old thing never left his arms. "I hope that drink is still on the table?"

"You bet. We have to fill you in you in on precinct gossip," Leto said, his second voice rising in excitement.

They started heading back but something up top caught my eye. It was difficult to focus, something large, lumpy and surrounded with tech energy came hurtling down from the roof.

Leto sprang into action and shoved me out of the way as bullets rained from above. I scuttled to cover and flicked on my omni-tool. I could see Leto readying his rifle across from me.

A loud thud sounded as the subject jumped down from the rooftop. One peek revealed it was the batarian bodyguard now advancing on our position. My heart sank. We could take this guy no problem, but if he saw or heard any part of our encounter then my cover was blown. The thought spiked fear deep within my guts.

I fired an overload, targeting his shields and Leto followed with a controlled burst from his rifle. The batarian wasn't fazed. His armor deflected the rounds and absorbed the energy. His many eyes locked on us and the bosh'tet smiled.

"This is Medvidus requesting back-up, we have—" I pushed Leto out of the way just as the crate he used for cover exploded. The batarian had a shotgun the size of a cannon and was advancing nonchalantly, taking his time.

"You think, Ying Ko didn't know about a little suit rat trying to betray him?" The batarian bellowed, spraying the ground before us. That pissed me off. Now he was just toying with us instead of fighting like a man.

"What does it say if he still got busted?" I yelled back, motioning for Leto to cover me as I prepared to use myself as bait. This operation was too valuable to go down in flames. If it needed sacrifice then I was it, no one else. I sprinted away before Leto could grab me back.

The Batarian opened fire but I was faster and dove for the lower alcove. Thank god for this city's uneven streets. I heard Leto's barrage hit him but like before the bullets just clanged to the ground moments after.

I heard his footsteps above me as the batarian continued to ignore Leto's bullets that sounded like pebbles against his armor.

I looked up and stared into the barrel of a Claymore shotgun aimed right at my head. Keelah! I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. They all told us at the academy that unlike the military our deaths weren't going to be for some glorious cause. Our life forces would be snuffed out by scum and we would get a black star on the memorial wall. Not even a twenty-one gun salute.

"You'll never stop the shadow clan!" The batarian growled.

I closed my eyes. Oh Shit.

In one instant the batarian's head jerked back. Little specks of liquid splattered onto my mask as he fell backwards. I didn't move for the longest time, instead I stared into the distance and saw the distinct blue glint of Omega's guardian angel.

Some of my informants revealed him to me early on. A lone sniper that goes by the name Archangel. I thought they were hallucinations from a drugged up mind, but now…I watched as he disappeared into the darkness. The wide oblivious city below separated us.

"Meera!" It was Leto looking down at me, horrified.

"I'm okay," I said as I hoisted myself up. Of course that didn't stop my concerned friend from practically running a full diagnostic, checking my mask, vents and arms. I backed away and shook my head. "Really. I'm fine, Leto."

That seemed to relax him as we both looked at the Bosh'tet on the floor in a puddle of his own brain and blood.

"You were lucky," Leto said, clipping the assault rifle to his back and kicked the shotgun away from the dead batarian. A perfectly symmetrical hole was all that was left between his lifeless eyes. "Archangel…Keelah se'lai."

"Heh… no, Leto." I knelt down next to the body and studied the perfect calling card of Omega's most wanted vigilante. "With the night we're having. I'm ready to keela-bitch!"

**A/N:** That last line belongs to the wonderful folks at Machinima who did Mass Effect parodies on youtube. I urge everyone to check them out. Also last chapter took place at 22:00 hours if anyone cares.


	3. No Reply

**0900 hours June 2 2185—Tuhi district—Omega. (Janet Murdock, human officer)**

Janet Murdock contemplated between answering the ringing phone and taking another dose of painkillers. Working in this choking maze of ringers was starting to make her go deaf, but she'd be dammed if four years in the academy went to waste because of a few incessant lines.

Bracing herself she switched her integrated comm on. "Omega Metro, what is the nature of your emergency?" She cringed as a mix of static and yelling assaulted her ear.

"The fuck... people thi— you're doing?— on... hold for ages," the voice of an angry man bellowed.

_Great it was going to be one of those days. _She shot her bored geek colleagues a dirty look. The four of them assigned to phones had a pact to never transfer a caller, especially the stupid ones. Just hang up and be done with it.

It seemed cruel at first but after two years on the job she understood why these deadbeats had such a rule. Too many assholes tied the lines and there simply wasn't enough man power to deal with them all. Nevertheless she swallowed her anger and tried to give him a chance, "I'm sorry about that, sir." Konan, one of the turians on line 2 failed to suppress a smirk. Janet threw a spare carton of take-out and hit him on the chest. "How can we help you?"

"No, no, no! Listen you pissant, I was on hold forever and—" Janet dropped the line and hot swapped it for the next. This was emergency overflow after all, time is money...or a life.

The next call wasn't a call at all but a comm patch from a patrol officer. Janet scanned her omni-tool and the ID came back with an instant match. It was officer Kip Jensen on patrol in the lower markets. A fellow grad who worked his way out to the streets, but even if he wasn't behind a desk he was still just as stuck as she was.

"Central control, this is Jensen. I'm in pursuit of a rogue vorcha heading east through the markets. Suspect is armed with a pistol and rocket launcher." His voice sounded relaxed, even though he was probably running like a varren. The man was too chicken shit for a bike but too smart for a car. The department was still months behind trying to identify how many officers died in skycar chases each year on Omega.

"Copy that, Jensen. All units be advised, we have a pursuit in the lower markets. All available units respond," Janet said and watched the magic happen. Her screen lit up with data as the others responded.

"Zane here, moving to intercept," the batarian's voice surprised her. The cocky bastard stuck to Rik like glue and never picked a dispatch alone.

Janet got static on her end so Jensen answered instead. "Appreciate it, Zane. Ah...control?"

The channel cleared and the familiar role of tactician flowed through her veins. Janet's screen popped out a 360 analysis of the topographical readout. "Zane you have tactical advantage on high ground in this area." She tapped a few holo-keys and lit a waypoint to the optimal sniping location. A moment passed with no response. "Zane?" She asked hesitantly hoping they didn't get cut off.

His mocking laugh from the other end was answer enough. "I know how to do my job, woman. Jensen, pick up the pace and steer that scum my way."

"Yes sir," Jensen replied, doing a great job of sounding like he gave a crap. Janet bit her lip to hide her laugh. Kip always talked about how he would kill to be in Zane's place by Rikshaw's side.

"See you on the other side.— Zane out." The crackle of distortion finally faded away. The more people on the lines the worse the static got.

"Dickhead," Jensen muttered.

"What if I left his channel on?" Janet challenged, playfully.

Jensen's dry laugh filtered to her ears. "If you can't trust a classmate who can you trust in this great city?"

"Touché," Janet replied. "Be safe. Control out."

Konan's mandibles caressed her cheek as he squat down and watched her screen. "Did I hear that correctly? Zane?"

"I know." Janet shoved his face away with one hand. Breath like Konan's could make vorcha cry.

"Where the hell is Mac when good news hits the fan?" Konan asked, staring at the closed door of their police commissioner. His lights were off and she had a sinking feeling that he hadn't been in that office since last night. Not that she cared. The guy was the reason she was still stuck at a desk, apparently it was hard to find a good personal assistant. But at the same time he was a blue. Asshole or not they had to look out for one another here.

"He's probably drunk and balls deep in some asari," Janet said, trying to convince herself as much as Konan. But they both knew Mac Walters would climb over his own grandmother if it meant leering at them from behind his desk every morning. Rain, shine or hangover, Mac was too paranoid to arrive any later than early for the end of Vice shifts.

It would have been easy to split hairs at the last part but Janet knew that was the least of his crimes. This place jaded him to the point where any day short of a full scale war was a great day in his eyes. Even as the death toll climbed, the mayor of the city breathed down his neck and queen Aria T'Loak lined his pockets to look the other way. Yet despite all that, Janet wore the title of being his longest-lasting part time assistant with some shred of honor.

The office was just starting to come to life. A few of the support staff rationed out the coffee. While some of the paper pushers started booting their screens, hoping no one would notice just one more body trying to get overtime without actually doing anything. It made her sick. All of this did. Her fingers itched to use the gun on her belt and put a bullet between some criminal scum's eyes. God knew there were plenty out there.

Konan whistled as sergeant Michelle Amberly passed, wearing a red stripper outfit from another night of undercover work. She shot Konan a dirty look which shut the turian up pronto.

Janet never understood why people like Amberly bothered joining the force. With her long blonde hair, full lips and curled lashes...she was beautiful for god's sakes! Could have any job in the world and yet she chose to run after scum, not just any scum but Omega scum. The scum of the scum!

"Where is Mac?" Amberly demanded, hands on hips and everything.

Konan and Janet shared a double take, not sure what to say. With Michelle it was her way or the highway and if you had an answer she didn't like, you were on her shitlist for the rest of the week. Not a great place to be. At least Mac's shit list was more refined to include the mayor, which meant he never went for small potatoes like the rest of them.

"He's late," Janet replied and nearly recoiled from the livid look sent her way. "I already tried his comm."

"I don't like this. Try again," Amberly ordered as she stalked away on six inch heels. They didn't teach you how to walk in those at the academy. But they did teach you that undercover work as a human stripper was ridiculous, mainly on a planet where asari cornered the market on that _prestigious_ profession.

Rolling her eyes Janet raised her omni-tool to try again, only to have Konan clamp down on her forearm. "He's here."

"Good, I'm ready to give him a piece of my mind about us covering for Control. It's the fifth time this week!" But something in the way Konan looked shut her up. He was staring at their boss and it wasn't until she followed his line of sight that she understood why.

Mac was the epitome of cleanliness, he was crisp, cut and at the very least looked like the chief he was always meant to be. But right now her boss was none of that. His usually starched, tan button down shirt was crumpled and speckled with blood from a broken nose. The rest of Mac's face didn't fare any better with a large bruise over the right eye nearly swelling it shut and a fat lip from what she guessed was a particularly painful slug. His salt and pepper hair was messed up and ran wild atop his head. If it weren't for the semi-recognizable uniform she would have mistook him for one of the many bums on the streets of Omega.

The entire squad room held a collective breath, no one was sure of what do or say as Mac stomped passed them to the center where an all points bulletin holo-screen dominated the space. With one sweep of his omni-tool the entire screen went dark. All of the active major cases were wiped away and shelved just like that.

Mac turned to his squad room with eyes ready to kill. Nobody moved. He stood like that a moment longer before straightening up to full height with an exasperated sigh. "Sorry, I didn't have time to mail your written invitations. So get your asses over here!"

Chairs squeaked and desks shuffled as the morning folks scurried to comply. There were a handful of beat cops already in armor, but they stepped forward among the rest of the data pushers. No one was ready to test the boss' wrath.

Mac tapped his foot impatiently as everyone arranged a tight gaggle around their boss. With a snap of his fingers Liselle's picture took center stage on the bulletin. "I want everyone's ear to the ground. Find me the fucker that killed this girl or so help me god I'll tear this town apart. Rik's taking point so all leads go to him, if you nail it down to an actual suspect I want to hear about it. For the next 'however long it takes', you're all going to live, breath and solve this case. Makes sense?" Several nods made their way across the bullpen. "Then get to it, people!"

With that Mac stormed into his office and slammed the door with enough force to discourage any brave soul from checking in. Of course that also meant it was Janet's duty to fill him in on just how much closer to hell the city had gotten over night.

"My guess, he didn't get any last night," Konan said to the howl of the other two idiots stuck working phones.

The large gaggle started to disperse as everyone whispered their own predictions.

Janet only shook her head. "Shit, Konan, this is serious. Liselle's death means..."

"…That we might want to file for vacation time now?" They all laughed except for Janet. In a way he was right. With Liselle dead, Omega was going to become Aria's personal warzone. But that only meant it was more important to toss the killer in jail before the queen bee got her hands on him or worse...Mac did.

With some trepidation Janet checked the order of the files on her omni-tool and stood. Tragedy or not she still had a job to do and part of it involved actually being a cop sometimes.

Konan's mandibles quivered as he watched her walk past. "Are you trying to get dibs on vacation time?"

Janet flipped him off in reply before coming to a stop in front of Mac's door. Normally she wouldn't bother knocking because his door was always open. But that wasn't the case today. Taking a deep breath she clutched her datapad and rapped on the fibre glass pane.

There was no reply.

"What was all the commotion?" Lieutenant Coriolanus demanded. The older turian was Mac's right hand by default, yet that didn't stop him from walking around like he owned the place.

"New case," Janet replied, raising her hand to knock again. There was no point filling him in, Coriolanus would just take control and make everyone's lives that much worse. Besides he would know soon enough anyways. The door swung open abruptly to reveal a still battered Mac on the other side.

Mac took one look at his lieutenant and shoved a datapad in his chest. "Coriolanus, I need you to kiss ass for me at the cabinet meeting. My hands are full."

If the lieutenant was concerned, his black face paint obscured it. Instead those yellow eyes glanced at the offered information and nodded without a word of protest. The perfect turian. As if the world needed more of those, Janet thought to herself. "You're sure?" Coriolanus asked casually as if they were discussing the weather.

"What do you think?" Mac replied and she felt the gaze of his good eye settle on her. "Murdock, what do you want?"

"Updates boss?" Janet waved her datapad in the air, hoping the action would trigger some recognition of their morning ritual. But Mac only backed away, leaving her to follow and close the door on Coriolanus. That felt damn good!

The boss chose to stand with his back to her as he faced the window overlooking the city below. It was no surprise that the blinds were drawn, blocking the artificial source of light Omega enjoyed between 0900 and 1500 hours. Mac wasn't the type to show his wounds, he'd lick them alone if he could. But work took priority like always.

"Hey boss?" When he turned around she tossed him the icepack from his mini-fridge. It was usually empty because he forgot the damn thing was there half the time. But days like this made her glad she hauled it in here despite his protests. Mac caught it in both hands more out of surprise than any real attempt. Well at least his reflexes were still working. "Do you want the good news or more bad news?"

"Hit me with some good." Mac pressed the icepack to his eye and came around to the edge of his desk. Janet guessed it was a bad time to mention that a simple medi-gel application would take care of the swelling, along with the nasty bruises in the shape of hand marks around his neck. It was no secret that he was leery of medi-gel, though no one really knew why. Shit, Aria did a number on him.

"Lex just bagged a major sting op." Janet waved her hands defensively when she saw Mac bristle. Bring Mac a deadbeat and he'd shoot the idiot himself. Bring him a drug dealer and he threw a hissy fit if so much as a hair was ruffled on the scumbag. It didn't make sense for a long time, but she realized that even her chief of police had to parade some accomplishments to the mayor. "By bagged I mean nobody got hurt. Local dealer named Ying-Ko is being brought in for questioning, with his intel we could take on the rest of the drug trade but at this pace even if he keeps his mouth shut, we have enough to stash him away for a long time."

"Good and what's the bad?" Mac relaxed and sat perched on the edge of his desk. Janet knew he kept a stack of shirts in the tiny crawlspace he called a closet so she raided it for a new uniformed shirt.

"We still have static coming through the comms. Central control is driving us crazy and we're overwhelmed with emergency lines," Janet explained as she patiently waited for Mac to gingerly remove his bloodstained shirt. For a guy in his forties he had the physique of someone equal to Rikshaw. His white undershirt exposed toned muscles and a decent build chest, surely a man powerful enough to act behind his words. Of course the defense could use some work, the angry bruises seemed to extend all over his arms and body, but given the fact that they were bruises and not bullet holes it was safe to say Aria wouldn't be a problem in the short term. "Lex is still bitching about how he needs more staff. Jensen is still waiting for a new partner."

"New partner?" Janet nodded and handed him the new shirt. "Jesus how long's it been since Hope left?"

"About two months now." Janet tried not to stare as he buttoned up, each fixture hiding just another portion of her strange boss. "We also have some static issues on the omni-tools and comms. Think we might need an upgrade."

Mac nodded with something akin to a defeated smile. "I hear you. But on whose dime?"

Janet knew it was a rhetorical question so she kept silent as her boss stalked around the office, trying to figure out some plan. A part of her badly wanted to recommend herself as Kip's new partner, but something in the way he looked said it was a bad time to recommend anything.

"Where's Rik?"

Janet shook her omni-tool awake and checked. "His gps shows him at the coroner's office."

Mac gave a heavy sigh. She couldn't tell if it was one of relief or worry, with Mac there was never enough time to guess. "Look, I appreciate all you've done for us recently sweetheart."

Uh-oh. When he used terms of endearment that usually meant some major shit was coming down the pipe. Unsure of what to do, Janet felt herself take a steadying gulp of air.

"If I had it my way I'd keep you here working tactical." He smiled in that cocky way most of the asari found fascinating. "But right now I need all hands on deck, so you'll be joining Jensen on the streets."

Janet blinked. She had the strong urge to pinch herself or at least clear her ears and hear him properly this time. Have the phones made her deaf? "You're serious?"

He nodded solemnly. "As a heart attack. You're great Murdock, I didn't want to toss you into the deep end so soon but I don't have a choice. Finish whatever else you're doing then grab some gear and meet up with Jensen."

Janet grinned stupidly and had to stop herself from jumping into his arms. This was everything she trained for, this was finally the moment to do real police work and roll in the mud alongside her friends. "I...wow...I don't know what to say. Thanks boss."

The door flew open without warning. Amberly was livid on the other side and her eyes narrowed when they landed on Mac. "Did you think you were just going to waltz in here, 'business as usual' despite your wounds?"

Janet recognized the medical omni-tool in her possession alongside the steel box that contained the best medi-gel the precinct had at its disposal. Deciding not to get between her Sargent and boss, Janet bee-lined for the door, ignoring Mac's pleading look for help. "Amberly I don't have time..."

"Can it," the sergeant replied as she strode in uninvited. "Since you're refusing medical attention you leave me no choice."

Her stripper outfit was replaced with an officer's black uniform and a gleaming gold sergeant's badge bearing the Omega logo. Even in uniform the woman looked breathtaking with her long blonde hair and pale green eyes. Janet suddenly felt self-conscious of her long ponytail as she squeezed past her sergeant.

"He's all yours," Janet muttered, as she tried not to get too distracted by their momentary close proximity.

Back in the squad room all eyes were focused on her, trying to assess what was going on behind closed doors. There were two camps, those who believed there was something between Mac and Amberly and those who laughed at such rumors. Janet knew the real truth but it was easy pickings when it came to bets so she let the rumors float.

"We saved you the best line," Konan said, as he cringed and held a hand to his ear. The damn static was acting up again. What a joy.

But Janet was too happy to care and only shook her head. "I'm officially on beat patrol!"

Konan looked up to her with wide eyes. He had been gunning for a beat position forever, but that slight tinge of disappointment turned into a friendly huff. "Well I guess you had to get off your lazy ass sooner rather than later."

"Thanks," Janet replied as she sat down and took some pity on her fellow phone eaters. "Let me guess, it's the old lady and her cat again?"

"Better!" Konan replied and motioned for their colleague to patch the call through. "She finally got a dog."

Janet answered the transfer. There was nothing that could wipe the smile off her face right now, this was it. The last call, the last time they had to tell Mrs. Garcia that her pet wasn't coming home. "Omega Metro, what's the nature of your emergency?"

The static hit her full blast, layered with speech from what sounded like a desperate man. "Shit, sh— shit...Look I... know—screwed up." The voice of a hysteric man came through.

Janet cringed and tried cleaning the signal with her omni-tool, but it was no use. Whoever was on the other end couldn't hear her through the white noise.

Konan frowned at the caller ID. "What the hell, this isn't—"

Janet shushed him and tried talking to the caller. "Hello? This is the police. What is your name?"

"Who is your contact?" Another voice on the other end demanded.

"I dunno man, I dunno. Look just—"

The unmistakable shot of a pistol pierced the air.

Everything moved in slow motion, Janet instinctively relayed the call to Konan's workstation. As he triangulated the signal she scrambled a dispatch and called an ambulance. The screens flared with activity, the voices of emergency personnel blended in controlled chaos. It was music to her ears. After two years of desk duty she was done sitting around listening, now was the time to act. Transferring control to Konan, Janet bolted for the equipment room with the adrenaline of a first case carousing through her veins. This was Omega's siren call the one that Janet wouldn't hesitate to answer.


	4. Interrogation Tango

**A/N: I am so sorry for taking forever. You guys are the most patient and supportive fans in the world. Thank you so much for all of your encouraging and courteous fe****edback.**** I love you all! As a reward this will be a four chapter update.**

**9:00 June 2—Market District—Lower Omega (Batarian Sargent Zane Korragan, Major Crimes Division)**

Humans are pathetic. I remember a time when the 2077th didn't have so many of them, they were actually a minority at some point. I still chuckle at the days they would bow before us, rightfully so. But as more batarians left the force and returned home, the practice died. That is the only thing I miss from Khar'shan where the custom is on-going.

But humans have climbed their way to the top since then. Before, we wouldn't let them out on patrol, but now they practically ran every branch of the force. Now I'm stuck watching this human try and catch-up to the rogue vorcha.

I admit this particular human, officer Kip Jensen has some potential. Surviving Omega's street patrol on your own was nothing short of commendable for a rookie. Although he's too damn young and brash to be good back-up. But what do I care, I'm partnered with Omega's top cop so these young-lings don't concern me.

The vorcha weaved his way through the crowds, knocking over anyone stupid enough to stand in his path, occasionally launching missiles over his shoulder. Jensen was good at dodging but pathetically lost his momentum with each passing rocket.

I left him to his own devices and focused on the vorcha. Its angular head popped into my scope, just begging for the kill shot. I exhaled slowly as my finger curled around the trigger, the perfect shot was just coming into range...

Static scratched my ears followed by a transmission from our temporary central command. "Zane you have tactical advantage on high ground in this area." I sighed as my HUD filled with crap that stupid human woman sent my way. All sorts of analysis and waypoints broke my concentration and killed my perfect shot. "Zane?" The voice nagged through the static.

I sat up and ripped the stupid visor from my face. "I know how to do my job, woman. Jensen pick up the pace and steer that scum my way." When the boy promptly replied I had regained my cool. "See you on the other side—Zane out."

This time I shut down all incoming directions and focused on the vorcha's spiky head. It was running towards a line of fruit stands, beyond which was a matrix of Omega pipeworks. It would be impossible to find the little fucker there, but the perfect headshot was no longer an option with so many witnesses around.

Begrudgingly I lowered my sights on his leg and fired. The little bastard went down with a squirt, grasping his leg. Jensen was on top of him in an instant as I collapsed my Titan rifle and tried not to think of what Rik and I had signed up for.

Seeing Liselle's body last night unsettled me. Not because I care about Aria, I don't. But because of the buildings she will burn just to find the bastard responsible. I didn't believe Rik when he said Mac would be okay but when the booze-bag sent me the morning bulletin first thing this morning, it was somewhat of a relief. Again not because I like the human or anything, but because at this point keeping Mac in power meant Aria had a target. With any luck we might all get through Liselle's murder with our heads intact.

"Get offffffff," the vorcha hissed, as Jensen wrestled him up to high ground. I hopped down from the rooftop and landed right beside them with a satisfying crunch. I love the sound of my armor taking a beating; it reminds me of SIU training.

Jensen stomped on the vorcha's bad leg, halting its fidgeting as he dragged it forward. He was nice enough to slap medi-gel on the wound. I smirked, another pathetic trait for these humans. I would've shot him in the head, but Jensen preferred law and order to my approach.

Some curious onlookers started to surround us, but one glare from me sent them back along their business. I picked up Mr. Vorcha's rocket launcher. It was an ML-77 model, a weapon the geth were proud of. How did it get into the hands of a vorcha? But more importantly why do I care? Oh that's right, I don't. Pocketing the atrocious pistol that the vorcha used as side-arm, I looked over to Jensen.

The kid didn't take a scratch, his black armor gleamed in the street lights as if it came straight from the runway. On any other rookie it would've been a sign of weakness, but Kip's three year street patrol status meant he actually mastered the art of takedowns without breakdowns.

"I'm taking him in, sir," Jensen announced as he dragged the squirming vorcha over. The puny thing looked even more pathetic with its mangled leg. Back home it would be part of damaged goods, not even good enough for a slave.

"Are you waiting for me to hold your hand and show you the way?" I asked, channelling my best Mac impression.

When I first started at the Metro a pompous turian ruled with an iron thumb. After Aria got rid of him a slew of humans started taking command, none came close to the old turian's legendary gravitas. Then came Parker, Ceasar and now Mac. The three humans I actually have some iota of respect for besides Rik. What is Omega coming to? As a batarian I've fallen low. Respecting humans, hiding from asari...sometimes I feel like I've lost my bite so I stay away from as many as I can.

The young officer started moving away, leaving me to pick up the stolen weapons.

The vorcha struggled with renewed vigor as the crowd bunched up around him and Jensen. With a sigh, I took a step, ready to bash some skulls if needed but before I could do any damage, the familiar gust of a sky car kicked up the dust, garbage and pungent smell of urine as it hovered above us.

I looked up to see our 2077th logo on the car door and smiled when the people scattered. The denizens down here were like roaches, always swarming to the action but receding just as rapidly when police presence was detected. This intimidation factor led me to sign up with the precinct first chance I got. Of course my brother found a different means of doing the same. I can't say what method is more effective, but at least I don't work for a crazy asari bitch.

The sky car hovered possessively in the air, flooding the area with light until the last on-looker cleared out. As soon as it touched down, I didn't have to look through the window to see my partner Rikshaw at the wheel.

That damn half-helm on his head put emphasis on his twisted second smile, a scar that ran from cheek to cheek and dipped below his lower lip. Scars were a sign of pride in my culture, but humans have this ridiculous aversion to the slightest one. Nevertheless, Rik is the only human I know who doesn't fuss over his.

"Nice entrance," I said sarcastically as I tossed the vorcha's gear into the back seat.

Rik smiled, a rare sight in these parts, as he watched Jensen twist the vorcha's arm into submission before cuffing the damn thing.

"Rookie, need a ride?" Rik asked with steely calmness.

The kid looked between my frown and Rik's helmet and chose to be smart about it. "Thank you, sir. But I think my friend here wants to stretch his legs," Jensen replied, shoving the cuffed vorcha ahead of him.

Good. The last thing I wanted was for that garbage to stain our cruiser. It wasn't long before we joined Omega's air traffic and soared above the city.

Most people looked down their noses at lower Omega. Common words used to describe this place included hell, pisshole and any other type of derogatory term you can find in a dictionary. I can only describe it as a beautiful mess. I still think there's something redeeming in the chaos.

Back home the state council would've made this work. Every citizen would have a place, a purpose, a function to fullfill for the state. But here, all of that talent was wasted. Humans who would make perfect slaves chose to do nothing but beg along with those vermin vorcha. The turians were living their glory days at the end of a bottle and asari kept everyone captivated as they sucked money from the drudgery of disillusioned souls. Only the krogan seemed to be taking advantage of the land of opportunity. That crook Urdinot Yarz was building and selling real estate at a fortune on the surface district. I told Anto we should do the same but prying him away from Aria's tit is impossible. My brother is so lost in this place that I'm tempted to just send him home before shit really hits the fan.

I try not to let these thoughts consume me, but as we head into open war with an unknown enemy I can't help but feel tense. So to ease my burden I naturally turn my curiosity to Rik.

"What did Doc Ross say?" I ask, hoping the old man was okay. For a human who cuts up other species, Ross had an incredibly weak stomach last night. I remember pulling over twice just so he could throw up. Something about desecrating Aria's daughter didn't sit right with him.

"Autopsy results show traces of red sand in her system," his mouth transformed into a thin line before he spoke again, "it's possible Liselle was drugged before someone slit her throat.

I let it sink in. So we were definitely dealing with a homicide, not the suicide I had my fingers crossed for. Wonderful.

Rikshaw banked a hard left, narrowly avoiding the central refinery from Omega's industrial days. Someone stupidly designed the flow of traffic to meet at the abandoned building and now everyone had the pleasure of almost hitting it after the turn.

I felt my heart thump in my chest ready to explode as I recovered. Rikshaw looked unfazed. The human's stoic demeanor impressed me since the day we started working together. It didn't matter if we were surrounded by gangs of all species, getting bombarded by geth, or fighting rampant cyborgs hand-to-hand. He took everything Omega threw at him and moved on. Just another day on the streets for Joe Rikshaw.

I shook my head. That couldn't be all, but I was almost too afraid to ask. And when I saw the large neon letters of the Afterlife club's on the horizon, I didn't have to. This was the absolute last place I wanted to be.

I turned to Rik and loosened the leash on my anger. "Is this some sick joke? I thought you had a lead."

"There might be others. Aria likely knows more," Rik replied, leaning forward to search the dense streets for some space.

"Do you know what she'll do to us if we show up empty handed?" I bellowed. "She nearly skinned Mac last night and only left him alive because of your lead. Now we're coming to her with nothing and you expect to come out in one piece?"

"So? Stay here." Rik was already shrugging off his harness while simultaneously parking the car close to the club.

I could already hear the throb of Afterlife's bass reverberate through my bloodstream. SIU taught us to use sound on our enemies, it was the process of letting fear creep into their hearts through a steady beat. It let them know we were coming for them and they were already dead. Aria was doing the same but legions of oblivious humans and red sand addicts fell for her death march each night only to return on the next.

Rik didn't wait for a reply and was already out the door. I had no choice but to follow him. What was I supposed to do, keep the car company? No. We're partners and we stick together. At least that's what my instructor always said. Plus if Amberly knew I let him walk in there alone she'd have my head anyways.

The usual line full of party filth extended all the way to the streets even though it was technically morning. They had nowhere to go so they stood in a line, wasting the day away just for a chance to be first when Afterlife opened its doors at night. Rik and I strode right up to the front where an elcor barred entrance.

"Come on, Aria's expecting me, uh!"

The human's flippant cries went unnoticed as the elcor's full attention shifted to Rik. "Geeting: Detective, welcome it's good to see you. Aria's expecting you."

I raised some brows. This was getting worse by the second, we no longer had the element of surprise. But if Rik knew that he sure didn't show it as he walked right into Afterlife's cavernous mouth.

Inside the outer hallways, various cleaning crews were scrubbing the lights clean, wiping the floors and glossing the polish of the steel fixtures. How anyone could work under such noise was impressive, but everyone was on hands and knees beside buckets, scrubbing for all they were worth. A few salarians were on the latters, stretching far to reach the ceilings.

Rik stilled and I nearly bumped into him before following his line of sight to the floor. A filthy batarian, degrading himself into servitude was working away at a particularly nasty stain. The water in his bucket was scarlet, as was the rag in his hand.

When he noticed our gaze, he only scrubbed faster and avoided eye contact.

"What happened?" Rik asked in a voice sharp enough to be heard over the loud music.

Still the batarian pretended not to hear us as he continued about his business. Others were giving us curious glances but otherwise stayed out of our way. I squat next to my kind and tilted my head to the right. "Are you going to talk or do I have to beat it out of you?"

The cleaner gave me a blank look, but I grasped him by the collar and stood him upright before he could give us anymore bullshit.

As he squirmed under my grasp, I felt a tinge of embarrassment. Our culture taught us to look out for one another yet here I was disregarding all that because of some asari bitch. It was shameful but necessary, given the uniform I decided to put on.

"I don't know anything, I'm just a cleaner!" The batarian growled. I threw him aside, away from the blood stain as Rik pulled out his omni-tool and scanned the pool of liquid.

Terminator assault rifle in hand, I did crowd control in case anyone got any funny ideas. The polonium rounds in this beast would tear a frigate in half and they all knew it, which is why everyone wisely kept working and let us deal with the matter.

"I invite you in and you assault my staff?" My heart bled cold at the sound of that voice. Aria T'Loak had this way of sounding dangerously calm when she was ready to tear you a new asshole.

Flanked by Grizz and my brother Anto, the Omega bitch strode towards us with purpose and black fury in her eyes. When our discarded batarian made the mistake of scampering over to her, she slammed him away with a biotic blast. I gave a short laugh and holstered my weapon.

Rik stood to full height, and even though he towered over Aria she didn't bat and eyelash. "It was Turian Rum mixed with blood," Rik told me before looking down to Aria, "A fistfight judging by the amount."

Aria looked him over appraisingly. "You came all the way down here to tell me that? I'm impressed."

"We need to talk about your daughter."

"Follow me." With that she turned on her heel and we had no choice but to follow.

As we walked into the club, the usually packed venue was empty. Technicians worked on the lights and did various tests while the DJ played her tune, experimenting with the volume and synthesizers at her disposal.

Aria clapped her hands and got their attention. "Madura, that's enough. Take a break."

The music died and the thin human girl responsible for Omega's anthem left her post. The asari dancers took the hint and hopped off their platforms, while the bartenders stopped scrubbing their tables and retreated with the rest. I felt the shank of locks slide into place and suddenly wished I could draw my Terminator without raising suspicion. Aria was in a very volatile state, it didn't take a detective to see the fury beneath her calm exterior. Hell the reason she didn't shoot us yet was probably because she couldn't read Rik through that helmet of his. I on the other hand was as good as dead if he pissed her off.

They led us into her 'office' which was nothing more than a glorified VIP lounge where she could keep a watchful eye on her affairs.

I decided to hang back and let Rik go ahead with the Queen bee, that's when Anto bumped into my shoulder. "What are you doing here?" He muttered.

"My job. What do you think?" I gruffed back, mentally keeping count of Aria's increasing security detail. Grizz was joined by Bray, Garka and some other goon, a human.

"I think you should get out while you can. Liselle is—"

"—I know." I cut Anto off with a light shove towards his friends. The last thing I wanted was my brother choosing sides if things got ugly.

Aria took her seat, or should I say throne, and looked to us with amusement. If she knew we were brothers she hid the information well. Or at least well enough to hold it over my head with that indulgent smile of hers before shooting daggers at Rik.

"Sit," she commanded, sweeping a hand to her right.

Rik didn't move a muscle, I followed his lead. When guns came at our heads I started to get second thoughts but Rikshaw spoke with deathly calm. "Where were you the night Liselle was killed?"

I could see the sweat on Anto's brow as he kept his pistol trained on Rik's head. Usually I'd have this shit under control, but today...I don't know. There wasn't enough time to draw, but if I did nothing someone was going to kiss a bullet.

It was Aria's laugh that saved us all from having to act. With one shake of her head, the goons backed off and the barrels disappeared.

"I see, so the rumors are true Rikshaw. You don't flinch at the barrel of a gun," she said airily. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Her penchant for dramatics was ridiculous. "But if I didn't know any better you make me sound like a suspect in my own daughter's murder."

"You do know better," Rik replied, hands loosely at his sides. "Apparently enough to know it was a murder to begin with."

Aria stretched one arm along the couch's back. "You don't need to have a badge to see that my daughter was murdered."

"But you do need an alibi," Rik finished. His jaw locked like steel as he grit his teeth, a look that sent many suspects running for the hills. But Aria only lounged back, trying to figure out how much she should say.

I tried to swallow my nerves discreetly. My partner was walking a thin line here, bitch or not she was still our silent benefactor. Without Aria's money there was no force, in return we seceded lower Omega and downgraded from cops to second-rate garbage men. I normally hate politics but any idiot with half a brain would be smart to keep an ear to the ground, especially now. After all, if Mac went down I wanted enough warning to get the hell off this rock.

"I was busy smuggling red sand, skinning a blue suns officer and taking candy from little children," she finished eloquently with a bored sigh.

Under casual circumstances I would've laughed. I don't know what Rik was playing at, because it didn't matter what she told him. There was no arm of the law that could touch her and she sure as hell didn't kill her own daughter.

Rik flicked his omni-tool on. The motion spooked Bray enough to have him reach for the gun, but one sharp glance from Rik's shielded face stilled his movement. "Zane, if he so much as thinks about drawing his gun on me again. Shoot him," Rik said, letting the words hang.

"You got it," I responded, crossing my arms and staring the goon down.

My partner turned back to Aria and pressed play on the hologram projecting out from his omni-tool. Grizz and Bray grimaced as the vid showed surveillance drone footage of them dumping a bloodied human male into an alley.

Aria gripped the leather of her couch, crushing it with a concentrated burst of her aura. "You're saying that piece of shit killed my daughter?"

"No. I'm saying I have enough to put your boys away for a long time if they don't behave," Rik cautioned, before fiddling with the vid.

"Cute," Aria conceded, eyes narrowing at the new vid. "What's this?"

"Footage of you sending her off." The vid played but the audio was distorted by the constant stream of hover cars. Thanks to the time stamp I realized this was a mere four hours before Liselle's time of death. It was also likely the last time Aria saw her kid alive. "You wanted her to meet with someone. If I had to guess it was regarding a red sand shipment your crew pirated from the Talons yesterday. I need to know who you sent her with."

"None of this matters. My men are hot on Paul Grayson's trail as we speak. My advice, stay out of the way."

"Then they're wasting their time," Rik declared. "Paul Grayson doesn't use blades."

"I left Mac alive because I believed in your lead Rikshaw," Aria weighed in, crossing her legs while drumming her nails against the couch. "Now you come to me empty handed, expecting to divert my attention from the prime suspect?" She gave a short laugh. "You're not scooping Grayson up from under my nose. He better hope you find him first because I'm going to use that blade cut him open myself."

"If you want to let your daughter's killer go free that's not my problem." Rik dissolved the holographic picture. "But I need to put a killer away before any citizen of Omega pays the same price as Liselle."

Aria's laughter echoed all around us. To be honest, I found it kind of relaxing. Even if Rik was clearly getting under her skin, this was a much favorable reaction to the furious bitch persona I was expecting. "Oh, Joseph Rikshaw, Omega's top cop. Tell me when did you become the savior of the people? Was it before or after New York?"

"I'm nobody's savior," Rik replied evenly.

"Of course you are," Aria replied, with treacherous delight, "didn't you tell them what you were before?" Her eyes found mine as she continued, "what about your partner, does he know?"

"We're out of here," I announced, ignoring Aria's look of displeasure as she waved down her goons. Rik had finally gone over his head and now it was my turn to save our asses.

"I had an interesting chat with a man called Caleb Antella. He's dying to meet you Rikshaw. I think you two have much to discuss," she exclaimed as danger returned to her irises.

That was our cue to leave. I yanked on Rik's shoulder but the stubborn ass wouldn't move. This was the oldest trick in the book and I knew Rikshaw was smart enough to see right through it. If Aria actually had some dirt on him, she would've used it long ago. Of course that was just my guess, I couldn't read Rik at the moment since his jaw stayed in that perpetual scowl from beneath his half-helm.

When we finally made it back outside I wanted to kill my partner. We just stared certain death in the face and he was acting all calm, cool and collected. My own brother was on the line just a moment ago and this crazy human put us all in danger. "Did you actually get something out of that or do you just have a death wish?" I hollered.

Rik turned and that's when I saw the ghost of a smile stretch that scar. "We now have confirmation that she's after Grayson. If we take him into protective custody quietly she'll be chasing her tail looking for him, leaving us free to track down the real killer."

Rikshaw showed me a still image of what looked like a ninja on drugs. His hard brown eyes had the hard edge of a killer, in his hand was one monomolecular blade stained with crimson. The image date stamp read...no...it couldn't be...has it really been two years since Caesar...

I slammed a fist to his chest plate, halting my partner in his tracks. "Who's the guy in the picture?"

Rik glanced down at it before stuffing the thing in his pocket. "I don't know. But I've spent two years trying to find out and now he's struck again."

"You're sure we're dealing with the same guy?" I pressed, circling a vorcha that was huddled on the ground begging.

"Just a hunch. But Liselle's murder fits his M.O," he replied and side-stepped me. I only shook my head and followed suit. "I need to siphon the drone footage around Grayson's apartment."

Yes, this was the year I was going to die, but so help me god getting Anto off this rock would be my final act. Don't get me wrong, I trust Rik's gut, it solved more cases than I could count. But in this instance, I knew we were grasping some very thin straws.

I caught up to him again, shuddering when the Afterlife anthem returned to the air via Afterlife's loud speakers. "Suppose you're right. She's chasing Grayson while we quietly lock him away in custody, how long do you think before she sends a mole to take care of him? And how long before she connects the dots and finds out what you're keeping from her?"

"Days, weeks, it really doesn't matter," Rik assured with such conviction that I wanted to kick myself for actually doubting. "We'll end this without her."

I sure hoped he was right. Aria didn't supply us out of the goodness of her heart, she expected us to share knowledge. This rift would be enough to tare the department in two if she ever caught wind of it. I heaved a heavy sigh, trying my best to ignore the impulse to shoot something right about now.

We were nearing the sky car and that's when it happened. An unlucky blue stepped into our path, some ridiculous human with short black hair, beady eyes and thin features all decked out in standard Alliance navy armor.

"Excuse me, are you Detective-sargent Joseph Rikshaw?" The man asked in a tone of importance that wasn't quite welcome here in Omega. At least not from Alliance types.

Rik looked down to him. "Who's asking?"

"Major Caleb Antella, Alliance—"

The words were barely out of his mouth before Rik's fist connected with his jaw. It happened so fast and with such force that every civilian around us took a collective gasp. The Major landed hard with a smack against the pavement as Rikshaw continued onwards. I just stared after him, unable to believe what I just saw.

Metro precinct members were notorious for using force, we certainly didn't fuck around. Our motto of beat first ask questions later served us well in tight spots, but never out in the open and never with an Alliance officer. As if we needed another side in this growing war.

"Coming?" Rikshaw asked loudly over the murmur of people.

I only chuckled and shook my head before running after my crazy partner. Yep, we were all dead one's walking now.


	5. Hail to the fish

_**11:00 hours June 2 2185—Tuhi district—Surface Omega (Turian Lieutenant Tarquin Coriolanus).**_

Lieutenant Tarquin Coriolanus was starting to lose his taste for meetings. The dead whites of Metro squad's eyes did him in every morning. He could be on fire juggling chainsaws and they would have the same jaded expression. Nobody liked the briefings and over time his enthusiasm for giving them finally died.

But when Mac stole his spotlight and turned the entire squad room into a buzzing pool of activity Tarq saw red. The morning brief was the one time a day he had the right to demand respect. It was also the only portion of the morning where he could impress his nephew Leeto and now the big chief of police himself kicked the podium out from under his feet as if it were nothing then retreated to his office. An office that should've been his, Tarq mused. After all, the chief of police was supposed to be one of those big wigs who resided on the surface levels of Omega where the real citizens lived not down here with his officers. Seeing Mac in a position of power would have been good for morale, public security and all of that other stuff the tax-paying citizens of the surface expected. But the fool wasn't interested in public appearances.

Tarq intended to confront him but was now stuck with this dog and pony show of a committee meeting. Mac was notorious for always complaining about it but never actually showing up. Perhaps back when he was lieutenant he had his fair share of being a proxy, just like Tarq found himself to be now.

The skycar soared through the hazardous gas that separated the surface level from its dirty lower half and broke free. Tarq exhaled in awe at the beauty of Omega's surface level. He had come here on two occasions, both bad. The first time was when he landed on Omega and realized he couldn't afford surface level lodgings. The last time was when his wife ran off-world after refusing to stay in the lower levels. She was a soldier who couldn't stomach eternal night, brutal gang wars and the litany of homeless Vorcha who harassed everyone who had a roof over their head.

He couldn't afford the penthouse suites that overlooked a respectable business district or own a shop in cardinal square where vendors from all over the galaxy convened, so there was no reason to venture up here. Apparently the position of chief came with its own such penthouse but Tarq had never seen Mac take a skycar to the surface. Not like their previous chief who had the sense to live there.

Tarq pulled out of the regulated stream and landed right in front of the city hall building. It was the tallest building in the business district, flanked by expensive glass towers of economic influence. The reflective glass windows just begged someone to ram into them and pay for the contractor's vacation, but unlike the lower levels, people here were licensed to drive so the buildings remained pristine.

Two guards ran up to greet him as he put the car in park. This general council meeting resembled a movie premier. Expensive X3M model skycars swooped in from all directions depositing well dressed guests who joined a long procession heading for the lobby.

Business humans walked around looking important in their designer suits, Tarq was glad he shined his armor last night since his police presence didn't go unnoticed. Many fake smiles were tossed his way between snippets of business advice.

_Drive-by investments,_ Tarq thought dryly as two cops wearing blue armor with the logo of the 2033 surface precinct finally reached him. Their faces soured as soon as they saw his own gold shield.

Tarq tossed the skycar keys their way with a smirk. This precinct paraded itself as high and mighty over the 2077th. Yet instead of chasing real criminals like the Metro did every day, these fools doubled as valets and had the nerve to show disgust. But there was no point in standing there and giving them hell, Tarq promised to one day rise above all this and make some real changes to the way surface district was run.

When the elevator stopped at the penthouse conference theatre Tarq thought he hit the wrong button. The place screamed money through its velvet decor and insanely wealthy attendees. Soft jazz music was playing as the controlled rumble of business-speak carried through the air.

Tarq took in the sights and sounds, twice refusing the offered alcohol from the waiters walking by. The stuff ran so freely up here it was difficult to remember that an alcohol ban was in effect. Yet another thing the general public ignored on both halves of Omega. But all thoughts of policy faded when an angry batarian officer and slow moving elcor intercepted him at the inner gates.

"Demanding: State your name and purpose," the elcor bellowed.

"Forget that," the batarian chimed in as he stood toe-to-toe with Tarq, sizing him up. "I think we need to do a strip search on this one."

"Scheming: Agreed."

The batarian was huge but Tarq held his ground and puffed out his chest, hoping the light from his gleaming Lieutenant badge would put this idiot in his place. It didn't.

"You're coming with us." The batarian reached for him and Tarq immediately gripped his omni-tool. Everything happened in slow motion as the guests took notice and a few camera drones zoomed his way. _Damn it. Not the right time for a brawl. _But before Tarq could choose between his dignity and his public figure, he was saved by a familiar face.

A large hand clamped down on the batarian's armored shoulder. Both so-called policemen turned to face one of the most respected men in the cabinet and immediately lost their vowels. Tarq only smiled as his old boss Dominic Parker stared the uniforms down.

"Respectful: Sir," the elcor greeted as he moved aside. The batarian did the same and Tarq was waved through the gates into the VIP area.

"Coriolanus, never thought I'd see you here," Parker greeted. The promotion was doing the old human some good. His powerful eyes had the predatory gleam of someone who knew their importance. His golden Kassa Fabrication armor truly fit his new position as head of public security. It was quite the step up from chief of police. "Welcome to the fold."

"Thank you, sir," Coriolanus said as he fell in-step. The entire penthouse called for him to mingle. All the most powerful business suits in the galaxy convened here...as did a few most wanted faces. A perfect harmony of legitimate businessmen and ruthless criminals were huddled in hushed conversation all over the ballroom. "It's good to see you."

As they walked on the crowd seemed to part before Parker had to say a word. Maybe it was the golden armor or maybe they all knew who he was. But as they passed by Coriolanus couldn't help but feel unsettled with some of the more serious faces in the crowd. There were bomb makers talking to diplomats, Eclipse sisters in expensive ball gowns and many other goons all dressed up for their masters today. He wanted to excuse himself and slap on the cuffs around but something in Parker's quick gait had him running on autopilot to keep pace.

"Did Mac resign?" Parker asked, barely containing the vehement glee in his eyes. Tarq never understood the war between his bosses, but then he was never meant to. Someone had to actually get the paperwork done amidst all the office politics.

Coriolanus shook his head and tried to hide his unease. "He had some important things to take care of. I'm here on his behalf."

"Of course." The sarcasm dripped from Parker's tongue as they were waved through a second security door. No one even asked their names. "The smug bastard never could follow rules. Not like you anyways."

Tarq felt a swell of pride at the comment but choked it down in an effort to look refined. After all he didn't want Parker to think he was some latter climber...not really.

They were waved through another checkpoint and the doors to the ballroom closed behind them. Even in a place like this there was still a division of power between the powerful and the ultra-powerful members of the cabinet.

The ballroom was magnificent in Tarq's eyes but it was nothing compared to the splendid marvel of the inner sanctum where the cabinet met. The place was decorated with deep reds, everything from the drapes to the expensive plush pile carpet from Thessia. A long desk made of the finest turian rosewood elevated everyone to the same level, but put emphasis on the lone seat at the head of the table where the most powerful hanar floated. The hanar's trusted drell bodyguard stood at ease to its right. Coriolanus heard stories of the young drell, even though he was just an up-and-comer by his species standards, Slate had single handily protected the mayor from a krogan ambush.

An asari waitress came by with flutes of turian rum. When Parker swiped a glass, Coriolanus couldn't help but do the same. He broke the hard and fast rule of 'no drinking on the job' that he had spent countless hours trying to instill in Leeto. But this wasn't about his nephew, this was about fitting in with the right crowd and looking for a way to the top. That job as chief of public security had his name on it, screw what Mac thought.

Tarq drank and surveyed the other guests. On either side of the hanar were two salarians known as the Lozarii brothers. Tarq nearly choked on his mandibles when his eyes confirmed that to be fact. Tao and Kazo Lozarii, the most notorious red sand dealers in Omega were at the cabinet meeting.

They leaned towards the center of the table and whispered something to the mayor. Apparently it was enough to get the ball moving as the Hanar announced it was time to start.

Everyone took their seats and Coriolanus snagged the one meant for Mac. It was shorter, uncomfortable unlike the plush ones of the rest of the cabinet. Parker was able to look down his nose at him and suddenly Tarq understood why Mac chose to sit this one out. He had clearly pissed off the wrong people.

Tarq noted a fully diverse cabinet but he didn't know anyone besides his old boss. He also recognized the chief justice as asari matriarch Rinoa Calis and the krogan urban planning developer Urdinot Yarz from the news, but didn't know them personally. There was also a salarian sitting before the title of treasurer, but it was difficult to figure out if he was with the city or as part of the Lozarii entourage.

"This one would like to get straight to the point," the hanar began, while it grasped a particularly large drink in its tentacles. "Expansionary fiscal policy has been recommended, but I see no signs of a recession."

The hanar stopped there and let the cabinet murmur amongst themselves before the krogran cleared his throat. "If there's a point, I'm waiting for it."

"This one wants to know why this cabinet wishes to stimulate the economy during a time of economic equilibrium." The mayor replied, taking a satisfied slurp from his straw. "This one also requires a martini, shaken not stirred."

One of the many servers tripped over themselves to receive the glass. When the hanar extended a tentacle to the closest human waiter the boy practically fell to his knees in honor. Tarq shook his head at the farce but didn't dare let go of his own drink. Everyone had one, apparently it was some sort of a status symbol around here and the mayor indulged in the biggest glass.

"You just answered your own question," the matriarch chimed in, her face indifferent to all the bullshit around her. "Equilibrium is killing us. We need some healthy competition in the markets because I don't like having my investments go stale."

"Strategy is sound." The salarian treasurer piped up and fired off statistics. "Volatile market, increased demand, more workers."

_More crime._ Coriolanus smirked at the thought of what Mac would say. But Mac wasn't gunning for office, of course he didn't understand what was at stake here but Tarq did so he kept quiet. That job as chief of public security had his name on it, screw what Mac thought. He just had to make a good impression with these people and open some doors, that's it.

"Agreed." Urdinot Yarz nodded his approval. "I need a stimulus package to get a leg up on the competition. The returns would be...desirable."

"Desirable for who?" All eyes turned to Tao Lozarii the eldest of the two seated at the hanar's right. "The last time you thought something was desirable we lost money."

"You dare challenge me, worm?" Yarz growled, his fire-engine red armor seemed to flare up with him.

Things were about to escalate when the matriarch piped in, her sharp voice diffusing the situation before rounding on the Krogan. "He's right, Yarz. I refuse to contribute if that means another shoddy building collapses under your nose."

"That was one time," Yarz protested and regained his seat. "Besides, if we paid for better slaves we would've motivated the vermin from below to start competing for jobs. Everyone would have benefited, but the worms didn't want to share."

Tao fumed with rage while his brother Kazo tried a hand at negotiations. "Perhaps we can arrange for a tax buffer? If we each secede our cut—"

"Why don't I just re-arrange your head?" Yarz snarled, crossing his arms.

"This one will not tolerate slander," the mayor said, putting an end to the argument. "I will not allow the city to take the brunt of our gamble."

Parker chuckled, it spread like wildfire until everyone but the hanar was laughing. Only Tarq sat dumbfounded as he watched the jellyfish, trying his best to figure out if he was laughing too or if they all just lost their minds.

Tarq watched as Parker raised a hand in the air. "All those in favor of enacting fiscal policy and outvoting the mayor, raise your hand."

Despite the tense atmosphere he just witnessed, everyone raised their hand in unison and cried "Aye." leaving the Jellyfish to float there pathetically. Tarq closed his mandibles just as Parker's proud gaze lingered on him with a 'watch-and-learn' excitement. "Good. Now that that's settled, we'll need you to sign off on it Mr. Mayor."

The Hanar didn't say anything as it sipped from a straw. When the liquid reached the half-way point it spoke, "what portion should I call my own?"

Parker looked thoughtful in that way a blackjack dealer looked pleasant. "Your usual fee is very generous, wouldn't you agree?"

"Too generous," Yarz grumbled but promptly shut up when Parker glared at him.

"Good." The asari concluded, naturally siphoning the power from Parker as if they shared it. "Now what are we to 'invest' in with this new fiscal budget?"

Tao's bulbous eyes twinkled as a grin spread over him. "A shipment of our finest 'medicinal ingredients' straight from Mars could easily replenish the hospitals post-plague."

"And what about Aria?" Matriarch Calis asked as she sipped some black liquor. "She'll want a stake in this 'humanitarian effort'."

"What she doesn't know won't kill her." Yarz grunted. "Let's order a shipment, hire people to unload and work it." His gaze settled on Tarq. "To help the economy of course."

"But it might kill us," the Matriarch corrected, with a bored look. "I suppose that's why he's here?"

"Well, not exactly," Parker replied. Tarq felt himself sink under the weight of Parker's hand on his shoulder. "I was prepared to pull teeth with Mac but we can trust Coriolanus. Can't we pal?"

Tarq nodded although a bit cautiously. These people weren't interested in medical supplies that was clear as day, but he wasn't ready to stop believing in the power of the office. Not yet.

"Aria T'Loak is getting greedy. She's doubled the guards at all of Omega's ports, making our shipments a little difficult to fly under the radar," Tao explained cordially.

Kazo piped up. "We wish to do a large order right under her nose. With police presence we can be assured safety against...looting...yes that's it."

"We wouldn't want that medicine going to the wrong people," Parker said, watching Tarq like a hawk. "Look we know it'll be a stretch on your forces' resources. So we're offering you a promotion to Captain, a house on the surface and $100 000 credits for your service."

The figures made Tarq's head spin. It was everything he ever thought he wanted, right here for the taking. But knowing what lay behind the thinly veiled smiles made his stomach churn. "That's...um, very generous. But I can't accept this." Tarq replied, immediately wanting to take it back when he remembered his tiny room in the Metro's barracks. "Besides, I'm sure the surface precinct can handle this."

Everyone burst into a fit of laughter. Parker wiped tears from his eyes and slapped Tarq on the back. "You're alright Coriolanus. You're alright. Could you imagine my force down there? They've got their hands tied with Surface problems. Besides your people are better suited for jobs in the lower district."

"I see," Coriolanus mused as he tried to kill that nagging defensiveness for his precinct. Parker was being an asshole, but he had a point. No one knew lower Omega better than the 2077th. But having said that he wasn't ready to get his feet wet in something this big. "But the answer is still no. I can't do it, Sir."

"See what you get for low balling, Parker?" The Urdinot growled as he slapped the table. Another nervous aide set a drink before him and collected the spare glass. "Relax. We'll double that for $200 000."

"$1 000 000 if you get that top cop of yours to lead the security team," the Matriarch assured. The sum was so grandiose it made the salarian accountant's eyes bulge.

"Rikshaw?" Tarq asked, unable to believe what they were asking. "He's working a case and I can't exactly pull him to do anything else."

It was the truth. When Rik worked a case it was like trying to take a bone away from a varren. Rikshaw allowed cases to consume him until they were resolved, it was one of the qualities that made him a fantastic cop. It was also severely unhealthy but Tarq had long given up trying to counsel the crazy human.

Parker rounded on him. From the top of his golden armor he seemed miles away. "You're his lieutenant are you not?"

"Yes, but—"

"If he wants to wear that uniform and badge then he has to listen to you," Parker concluded, no bullshit in his eyes.

"His case involves Aria's murdered daughter, sir." A sigh of understanding escaped all of them in unison. "I can't pull him from that. I think all of you will understand why."

When Tarq looked up all of that understanding he perceived was reflected back to him as opportunity in their scheming eyes. That's when Tarq realized his mistake by even mentioning Aria's personal stake in Rik's case. He may as well have offered their Omega queen up on a silver platter.

"What if we sweetened the deal?" Matriarch Calis explained, leaning forward like a vulture ready to strike. "We'll give you $500 000 if you can get us that security detail. $ 1 000 000 if it comes with Rikshaw. And we'll throw in a second vacation home wherever Urdonot Yarz has built a solid house."

"What?" Yarz howled.

"Incredible offer," Parker pushed, not even sparring Yarz a glance. "What do you say, Tarq? Can you help the people?"

Coriolanus looked to the Mayor for inspiration. He seemed like the only one in here actually concerned about the regular folks of Omega. But the stupid Jellyfish just floated in place as it filled itself with alcohol.

Tarq wasn't stupid, he knew this descision had some major backlash attached to it but these vultures didn't see it that way. To them it was an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. To Tarq it was a major fork for his moral compass. Even if the 'medical supplies' aka Red Sand was discovered and linked to the cabinet members, they still held seats of power here and could save eachother from jail with a simple 'aye'. But Tarq also knew they would go through with it anyways. So what was taking a little cut?

"I'll take it on one condition," Coriolanus said, as every atom in his body screamed a profanity. "I want Slate's sword to take back to the precinct."

The blank looks returned as did the murmurs. But they were broken by the Jellyfish's slurred speech when Coriolanus' request was finally processed through its head.

"This one will do no such...such...good appletini..." the fish drank itself stupid. Slate hadn't moved, it was hard to tell if he heard them at all. The guy was a silent statue throughout the meeting, only moving his eyes to track the servers when they got too close to the Jellyfish.

Parker clapped sharply to wake the fish. "Mr. Mayor, we need Slate's sword to help the people."

"Certainly! For the people!" The hanar replied much more gracefully when his constituents were mentioned. "This one requests Slate to surrender his sword."

The Drell bodyguard moved with speed that couldn't be tracked by the naked eye. Before Tarq could open his mouth in thank you the sword appeared on the desk before him. As the drell retreated, Tarq stared at the monomolecular blade which distorted his features.


	6. Somewhat Damaged

**11:00 hours June 2 2185—Rear Entrance of Metro precinct 2077—Lower Omega. (Human Officer Kip Jensen, Street Patrol Unit)**

My name is Kip Jensen and I'm the guy who chases assholes. At least that's what my resume should say, in reality it has something fancy like third year patrol officer specializing in urban warfare. But the last time anyone treated me like an officer was...well...I don't remember a first. Maybe it was the day I got my uniform or...no. Now I'm just making excuses. In this place if you're a cop then you are the enemy, no questions asked. And you know what? When it comes to dumbasses like this vorcha I'm glad to be on the other side.

"Sssscum," the vorcha hissed as I haul his ass towards the precinct. Times like this I wish they trusted me with a cruiser. Monsters like this bastard were usually never seen in daylight and just touching his slimy arms is enough to make me puke.

As we near the door two newly partnered newbies cross our paths. A Lystheni female salarian whose name I can't remember and her human partner, big quiet guy from earth whose name isn't important.

"Kip," the salarian greeted and stopped right in front of us. Unlike your average salarian, this one liked to live on the wild side. At least that was Mac's reason for keeping her around, whatever that means. "Latest Catch?"

_No, he's just my in-law_. Stupid question. But I answer back civilly with a stupid one of my own. "Yeah, you two heading out?"

"The Kima district for us today," she said slowly. It was weird, the salarian males are all high strung but their women can hold a vowel long past its bed time.

"Heh...Keep your heads down. Archangel supposedly has that place under control, give him a few more years and Aria might have something to worry about." It's like they didn't want me to miss their looks of discomfort. So I didn't. "What?"

"You didn't read this morning's omni-bulletin?" the salarian asked.

With a flick of my hand I brought the sparking, malfunctioning omni-tool to eye level. "Damn thing broke when Mr. Vorcha here tried to kill me."

"Aria's daughter is dead. They found her last night with her throat slashed," The big guy beside the salarian was a master of the art of talking with a cigarette in his mouth. It's not enough to waste space in that uniform, he has to kill the air too.

I shake my head. I should feel pity, remorse or something. Anything! But honestly its one more criminal meeting her inevitable end, so why the fuck should I care? Yet for their sake I try and look petrified.

"All the more reason to stay safe out there," I reply as solemnly as I can. They move on and so do I. There was no point in feeling sad for the death of a criminal I didn't even know. In time Omega will forget Aria ever even had a daughter. It's not callous of me to think like this, it's just the way Omega is and always will be. Who am I to fuck with the program?

As we make our way past the meat wagon to the perp entrance in the back, I see an interesting scene up ahead. Our elcor doorman is trying to chase some quarian away. But it's not until I get closer that I realize who he's talking to.

"Stern: Only members of the police force are permitted to use this entrance."

"I'm undercover you bosh'tet. Let me in," the quarian stated, already flexing her omni-tool in an angle that was dangerously close to breaking it.

"Amused: What makes you think you're a member of the force?"

"Ugh, I don't have time to teach noobs how to do their jobs. Get out of my way or I will move you."

"Taunting: I'd like to see you try. Threatning: Leave before you get hurt, quarian."

I step in before things get ugly for the doorman. "Xerxes, this is Corporal Tarsim. You can let her through."

"Kip!" She exclaims. I can't see her features but I can hear the smile in her voice. Nice to know I still have that effect. "Thank Keelah."

"Apologetic: I'm sorry corporal. Please proceed."

After I hand the vorcha off I receive the tightest hug ever from Meera. We get a few strange looks from the office homebodies, but they're smart enough to shut up. "It's so good to see you."

"Feeling's mutual," I reply when we part and start walking side-by-side. It's weird to see her in the station, especially with the undercover suit that makes her look like she's renting a trashcan. "So what, the boss pulled you in?"

She makes a beeline for her desk and I follow, surprised that she still has one. Personal space was in short supply at the office, let alone furniture. I was sure they looted her when she set foot on that mission months ago. Or was it years? Fuck it's hard to tell the days apart in this city of perpetual night.

Meera thrusts a datapad into my chest and I suppress a groan. There's no time for light reading. I just want to get my new omni-tool and haul ass. The streets aren't going to clean themselves. "What's this?"

"My field report. You're holding eight months worth of intelligence." She swiped it back when my eyes started to glaze over. "Their operation, it's just so sophi—hey where are you going?"

I was already moving for the lifts with no plans to slow down. Meera's briefings were an undiscovered cure for insomnia. "Sorry Meera, I'd love to stay and sleep but I need to fix this then and get back. I'm on the clock."

"Right, of course." Her footsteps caught up in the time it took the elevator to squeeze down here. So much for my clean escape. "Some of us want to grab a drink tonight. Do you think you can make it, once you're off the clock of course?"

A night out was starting to become too common. A night out in Omega was the equivalent of taking a walk in the park these days, there were only nightclubs and bars in this place. Not that I mind. But when the choice is between chugging down the usual while some asari shakes her ass and a dinner date with the hottest reporter this side of terminus space, then it wasn't much of a competition. "I have plans Meera. Maybe next time?"

"Oh. Alright." She nodded a little too enthusiastically and overcompensated for the feeling of rejection. "Well if you change your mind the rest of us will be at Afterlife."

The doors opened and Meera turned to go. I felt like a jerk. I wasn't blind, I knew the rumors and could read women of all races...but what am I supposed to do? You can't help who you love. I stuck my hand through the doors and called out, "Hey Meera, what's the occasion anyways?"

She turned back and put a hand on her hip. I knew that stance, that 'Kip you're an idiot' stance was her favorite. So I took some sense of pride in prompting her to use it. "Haven't you heard? We're celebrating your new partnership."

I frowned. Now she just had to be fucking with me. "What?"

"Janet Murdock," she said, turning to sashay away. "I think you'll be a great match."

I let the doors snap shut as I stepped back in shock. I didn't think my request for a new partner would ever come through. A part of me couldn't believe it but another part new better. When Mac finally caved and you got what you wanted, it meant big pieces of shit were still stuck in the fan; just waiting for some unlucky beat cop like myself to walk underneath.

* * *

_**20:00 **__**hours June 2 2185—Giordino's fine dining—Lower Omega.**_

The rest of my shift was insane. I tried not to let my conflicting emotions show but my mind wouldn't shut up. These streets, they did something to you. They were so ingrained in our minds that it was impossible to just wind down. Maybe that's why all of us drink.

I stare at the bottom of my empty glass at lower Omega's only formal restaurant. It's hard to tell if I took my time or chugged it in one gulp.

"Are you listening to me?" Emily tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail to get my attention.

I look up and study the small tilt of her lips as she tries to figure out if she's pissed that I'm not listening or if my lack of sleep is cute. But what do I know? Chicks dig the 'just rolled out of bed look' even if it was bundled in a penguin suit. She told me so herself on more than one occasion in the past.

"Sorry babe, long day," I managed to mumble out while running a hand over my face.

She smiles, looking grateful and somewhat sad. I know she wants me to talk more about what I'm feeling, but when you're a cop there's a thick bold line between what you can share versus what you should. So I don't.

When I signal for a refill, she gives me a look that stops the waiter dead in his tracks. She hates it when I drink. I don't blame her, but I know I'm far from being an alcoholic. I don't particularly like the stuff anyways, it's just a better option than a sleeping pill. God knows what that shit is laced with. But does she see it that way? Nope. See most girlfriends just chide their guys and give up, but Emily Wong can't resist turning it into a fact session.

"I interviewed doctor Michel back on the citadel," she began, her eyes growing large. In the five years we've been together she's never failed to spoil tomorrow's news for me. "According to her studies, each year spent in Omega increases the likelihood of developing schizophrenia, PTSD and other mental health issues."

Well it's not like I needed a doctor to tell me that. Of course I'm not dumb enough to actually say it out loud. "No way." _Yeah, much better. _She crossed her arms and leaned away and I was left stuck trying to salvage the conversation_._ "Um, so what's her recommendation?" I ask leaning closer.

It did the trick. Her anger faded and she looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well...she did mention something about changing your environment...perhaps a new career?" She moved even closer and I knew I was a dead man if I didn't say it now.

"Em, you have your pick of news stories right here," I protested. We had a good thing going, heck if she came back from that extended assignment on the citadel we might even get our old apartment back. "I miss our place and hate it when you're gone."

Thanks to the overcrowding issue on Omega, the mayor of the city instated a law where landlords couldn't lease units to less than two people. Basically you couldn't have a roof over your head while living solo. The official reason was something about creating initiative for families. But I think 'major oversight' is a much better term.

Thankfully, whenever Em ran to different planets to sniff out a story, I moved to the barracks at the Metro. It wasn't glamorous but it was better than the streets.

"Kip, don't tell me you haven't taught it through?" I took her hand in mine, it was soft but cool. It also gave me something to concentrate on as she rehashed another old conversation. "You can switch careers."

I hate it. I hate every version, every reason, every time we have this conversation. I love her too much to ever suggest she stops chasing after dangerous assholes for a quote. I bite my tongue when she comes back to tell me about all the undercover work she's done. But now she expects me to dump everything I worked for just because some doc quoted statistics? Fat chance.

"What the heck would I do with myself?" I try to joke, anything to get her talking is a good thing at this point. I don't like it when she's quiet.

"Well just look at you, blonde hair, blue eyes." She reaches out and runs a hand through my hair. I don't expect it but the cool pads of her fingers massaging my scalp feels fantastic. "You're too handsome to be a cop, Kip. My friends in the modelling industry on the Citadel agree."

This would be funny if she wasn't so serious. Growing up on this rock meant one of two choices, crime or law. Both if you were a politician. I chose the uniform despite how easy it would've been to run red sand for the Lozarii brothers. Now she wanted me to leave all this behind and smile for some drone.

"I can't do that, Em." Surprisingly my voice was even. Guess I did chug that scotch. "But hey, why the sudden talk of career changes?"

Now she drew circles on my palm as I waited her out. My gaze wandered to all good viewing angles her unconventional dress offered, she looked gorgeous. But as much as I wanted to just throw her over my shoulder like some ape and beeline for a hotel, I couldn't swallow the strange fact that something was wrong.

Finally she looked up and that's when I noticed it. Those eyes foretold the future but I shook off the conclusion.

Her hand found my cheek and I was drawn closer, like a moth to a flame. Except instead of kissing me I felt her breath wash over my lips and cascade down my chin. "I'm leaving for the Citadel, Kip. This time for good."

I draw back, not really surprised but none too pleased either. What was so good about that place anyways?

"First Hope now you," I say with a chuckle but she's not laughing. Instead she moves a stray bang from her hair and starts to look flustered.

That's another thing, every time I mention Hope she gets on my case. She knows we were partners, nothing more.

"Look, I get it. You grew up here, it's all you know but Kip even Hope knew when to move on," Emily tried; her voice was even lower now. "I think it's best if you do too...or I will."

For the first time I notice the ugly looking fish looking for a way out of the slimy aquarium beside us. I guess no one told them they can't survive outside the water. No matter how dirty it was.

I don't say anything. I don't think I need to at this point. Emily wasn't so much asking a question as she was making a choice for herself. So who am I to stand in her way?

"So that's it then?" I ask, loosening the stupid tie I spent all evening trying to fasten.

"Kip..." Her eyes try to plead with me but I'm already looking for that waiter.

"I'm not going to stop you, Emily. You deserve to do whatever makes you happy," I say that and am sad to realize I mean it. I know I'm supposed to beg, fight, do whatever it takes to make her stay but something inside me just shuts down.

"And you deserve more than dying in some gutter," she says with fire in her eyes. Some of the nearby patrons try hard to eavesdrop without being obvious, but I make a show of digging out my badge as I fish for my wallet. That seems to back them off from any friendly advice. "Kip, at least consider working for C-Sec. They won't waste three years of your life on patrol duty."

I lose it. "You think I'm wasting my life because I don't spend it chasing after Shepard?" A low wave of murmurs dies when stare back at them, livid. The waiter arrives but I wave him off before he can pour more of this watered down crap into my glass. "I need the bill," I tell him as my eyes never leave Emily's disappointed ones.

I don't know when this happened but somewhere in our relationship she must have imagined a picket fence and yard. I can't lie, I saw that too at one point. But if it wasn't going to be here then it wouldn't be anywhere. I can't leave this place and she's known that for years.

She stands and comes around to my side. "I know you do good work. I see it every time I come to visit." She leans down and I feel her lips on my cheek, cool, wet and regretful. "But you can't deny this place is toxic, Kip. You might not be ready now, but I am. If you ever decide to join me, here's my new place on the Citadel." My new omni-tool glows orange as her information is updated. "I guess this is goodbye for now," she says, when the transfer finishes.

"Bye, Em," I reply and close my eyes as her hand glides through my hair one last time before she leaves.

The turian waiter takes her place and glances down at the badge I still have on the table. He frowns as if I offended his mother. "Cop or not, you still have to pay."

"Yeah," I look up to him bitterly, "Don't I know it."


	7. Word on the street (1)

_**1300 hours June 2 2185—Gozu district—Lower Omega (Anonymous)**_

Shepard? Who the fuck is that and why should I care? Tell me when one stupid Alliance branded fuck ever bothered to do something for my city. Omega is a crumbling pile of vipers but do you see any aid coming? No.

Our cabinet is more corrupt than that citadel council's wildest dreams. Hell some of us don't have roofs over our heads and now thanks to that stupid Jellyfish we voted into office, a single person can't legally get a roof over their heads. Imagine that, you escape the pisshole situation of your home country, come to the land of opportunity only to discover that you can't live alone because this place needs you to shack up with someone else.

No, no I haven't seen your precious hero. What are you, deaf? No that was Archangel. Yeah the only one who seems to give a fuck these days. It was about two months ago when I decided to take a short cut home. I know it's stupid so don't give me that look.

It was a long shift at the bar and I just wanted to go home without being tempted by an asari for once. So I took the alleys. These backstreet vorcha surround me and start screeching their demands.

Now I'm no dummy, I know how this works so I pull out my credits. What's a few freaking credits for my face, eh? But these fuckers don't want my face. They don't want my money either.

At this point I'm shitting bricks because there's no way I can take them all on and save my manhood too. We're not all packing hardware here.

Then out of nowhere I see the most beautiful flash of biotics I've ever seen. You wouldn't believe it, they weren't your regular blues, it was something dark. Anyways these assholes disintegrate right before my eyes, it's like someone was breaking them down cell-by-cell until they were nothing.

What you don't believe me? Well yeah I know he uses a sniper rifle but people say he works in a team. Whoever she was, was obviously part of his team.

Ah what the fuck do you know, you strut around in that armor all day long what can you possibly see from inside that tin-can of yours. Me? I'm just a simple bartender. I can bet my human ass that this woman, force or whatever works for Archangel. Hell one day I hope he chases all the bureaucrats out of here so that Omega can go back to the way it's always been. Run by the people for the people. Yeah we're not all criminal scum around these parts some of us want a life here too.

I should be thankful because I work for the Queen? Oh excuse me Mr. Alliance but what do you know about working for Aria? That bitch couldn't run a club to save her life let alone an entire city. Why do you think she likes this constant stalemate between her and the other gangs. Trust me if she had real power those fucks on Surface Omega would get a taste of their own medicine. No, she's nothing but a big fish in a small pond, bullying the other fish into dancing to her tune.

And no it wasn't Liselle that saved me it was Archangel how many times do I have to say it? That woman worked for him, she had to. I've seen Liselle's pathetic biotics, there were nothing compared to that force of nature. Besides I hear that one's dead now. Good riddance. Now if that same son of a bitch would take care of Queen Aria and the rest, then we'd be getting somewhere.

No, I don't have time to search for your lost Shepard. I have actual work to do. I'm done with your stupid questions so either order a drink or get out.

**A/N: Many thanks to unkeptsecret who introduced me to this style of writing. Let me know what you think!**


	8. Who are you?

**1300 hours June 2 2185—Zeta District—Lower Omega (Turian officer Letonin "Leto" Medvidus, SWAT team rear guard aka "assaulter")**

Leto could practically taste the smell of blood in the air. It hung suspended in the chilled night air, thick and pungent on his tongue despite the three bottles of water he downed earlier.

Four hours ago they responded to a distress call coming from Levine & Associates' office here in Zeta district. The rush of storming the place floor by floor ended with a bang when krogran commander Herc decided to charge the door and trigger a booby trap. Everyone who wasn't already dead walked out okay, but now poor Dr. Ross had to supervise an easter egg hunt. From what Leto had been told the 911 caller was blown to pieces with body parts wedged in every nook and cranny of the top floor. Now standing in the shadows of Omega's twilight city streets, Leto shuddered as a cold draft washed over him.

Zeta district wasn't that far from their precinct over in Tuhi. The sounds of oblivious shoppers, shaman prophecies and muted bass permeated in the distance. Everything he found distracting about Omega was suddenly calling out to him as he guarded the entrance to the grizzly crime scene.

"Yes. I wish I was out there too," Sparty, the salarian rookie assaulter, commented beside him as they both looked longingly at Tuhi districts' flashing lights. Even though Sparty joined a month ahead and was technically his superior, Leto never felt out of place alongside him. There was just something easy going about the salarian's temperament that Leto found was a nice contrast to the hurry up and wait mentality of the other SWAT members.

"Yeah," Leto huffed in defeat. "How long do you think it'll take them to piece the guy back together again?"

The salarian shrugged and looked up to the shattered windows of the penthouse office. "Depends. Some pieces might be...too well done."

"Good point." Leto fought another shudder and straightened up when Naira pushed through the doors. The asari was a hardass who loved to pick on him. But since she was actually useful in a raid, Leto made a point to swallow all her insults.

She came around and stuck her face right into his personal space. The faint smell of copper wafted from her red speckled armour. During the explosion they were all showered in blood, Leto and Sparty were the lucky few in rear-guard that managed to avoid the spray.

"Greenhorn, get your ass upstairs. Herc wants to rub your nose in human blood," she ordered before whipping out a cigar and chomping down on the end.

Leto was gone before she could strike a match. The last thing he wanted was a lungful of that toxic gas to dull his senses. He never understood how she or his commander could breathe the stuff and remain standing.

At the penthouse Doctor Ross was piecing the victim's body together like a jigsaw puzzle. They were now up to half a torso and three fingers short a left hand. Blood smeared every surface, making it extra hard to get around. Leto tried to breathe through his mouth but the smell of rotting meat and tangy copper just sat in his lungs. He wanted to gag.

Techs were on hands and knees all around him scouring the place for evidence. Janet was among them, with a banged up but mostly regenerated Herc standing over her and micromanaging the entire operation.

Leto strolled over, rifle in hand and ready for anything despite the fact that they were all inside a relatively intact Penthouse office. Something about this place unsettled him.

"I keep telling you humans I want a topographical scan before we respond," The krogan bellowed, slapping medi-gel on particularly deep gash on his bicep. Herc's armor was half blasted off from where his charge met the blast. "But what do I get? Nothing. No scan, no dispatch, just annoying static."

"No one told you to barge in," Janet replied as she continued to sift through the debris, "take it up with Central Control if they ever come back online."

Leto smirked and shook his head. Humans of the force had a certain level of sass when it came to their superiors, but he knew if uncle Coriolanus ever caught him addressing a superior this way he would be evicted back to the squad barracks of the Metro.

Herc finally noticed him and barked a command. "Rookie, I'm going get patched up. Take my watch, move anything these weaklings can't." He jerked a hand to the many displeased technicians around us.

"Yes sir," Leto replied, somewhat surprised that Herc would entrust him with such a task. The other SWAT members stole jealous glances but kept their mouths shut.

Leto sighed. As much as he loved being dependable, the other team members saw it as preferential treatment based on the fact that his uncle was lieutenant. Herc's beefy hand pat his shoulder as he passed by, not making things any easier.

"So, what do you think, Janet?" Leto glanced over to doc Ross' table when they were alone. "Gang related or did this guy just forget to pay the rent?"

"Ha," Janet replied, wiping the sweat off her brow. The inferno from the earlier blast stayed in the room, making it warmer than usual. It was a nice contrast to the draft outside. "I dunno, Leto. If we could actually piece him together we'd get somewhere."

"Here's hoping," he agreed, glad to keep things light for a change. "Congrats on the promotion by the way."

"Thanks." She moved a mid-sized portion of concrete and uncovered a thumb. "Are you coming to Afterlife with the rest of us later?"

This was tricky. Of course he wanted to go, Janet, Kip and the others were some of his best friends. But uncle Tarquin had a curfew and... Leto hated being treated like a child but it wasn't in his nature to protest either.

Before he could reply, a shoulder bumped into Janet as she reached for the limb wedged in the mortar. "Excuse me officer, I'll take that."

Murdock was about to give this damn tech a piece of her mind but when she turned to find Cathy her anger dissipated. Leto understood the temptation. The cute new tech with sharp eyes and even sharper morals was Omega's latest gossip story. Everyone wanted to know what brought such a competent, delicate being to Omega. Most of the other technicians weren't here by choice and they made a point of letting everyone know it.

As she walked away he couldn't help but follow her graceful movement. Cathy looked right at home among the blood and guts, careful not to step in anything that was marked as she made her way to Ross' side.

Leto recovered first, forcing his eyes to Janet's transfixed ones. "Careful Murdock, you're drooling."

"You're one to talk," Janet replied as she rose and dusted her gloved hands. "I'm sick of this scavenger hunt. Wish we had some witnesses to interview."

A few techs brushed past with the other half a torso. Most of the bone and flesh stuck out, exposing a bloody mess that made his stomach queasy. He backed away and tried to control his guts. "The place across the street has working surveillance. I doubt you'll get much but it's a start."

Janet peeked out what used to be a window and squinted at the mini diner across the street. It was inconspicuous enough to serve the big businesses during lunch hour, but was closed down after the rush.

"Well look at you, _detective_ Medvidus." She turned to him with a predatory grin. "All you need is some C-SEC patches and you can be the new Vakarian."

Leto shook his head. Yes that's right, all he needed was some Turian rebel's markings, that would make uncle Tarquin _so_ proud.

"Heh, I'm no Garrus Vakarian." Leto shook off the comment, trying to remember the legendary turian as the lawful detective he once was before his name was dragged through the mud back on Palaven. "Hey where's Kip?"

Janet raised her omni-tool and cranked up the volume until static attracted some glares. "Don't know," she said quietly, "can't reach him cause' Central's down again. Our temporary station from the precinct is overloaded with lines, which means everyone is blind out there."

He never understood the appeal of street unit. Sure it was nice to patrol the same areas, but doing so alone and without the benefit of a team watching your back? That was nuts. "That must be nerve wracking for you."

Janet answered with an eyeroll. "I'm surrounded by a SWAT team it's Kip I'm worried about right now. If he calls for backup and it gets eaten in static he's royally screwed." She slapped her hands on her hips, "not to mention I'll be the one asking for a new partner."

"Excuse me, you can't smoke indoors," Cathy protested behind them as Naira lit took a drag from her cigarette. Leto hated it when Naira just silently snuck into a place, it was unnerving and he couldn't tell if the permanent quirk of her lips was due to her eavesdropping or something else entirely.

"Not much of an indoor," Naira teased, looking up through the massive blast hole in the roof above them. Leaning back against a partially destroyed wall she eyed Cathy seductively. "What's your name hot stuff?"

Leto felt uncomfortable. He couldn't say anything to Naira, she knew it and so did his team members around him. Janet shifted beside him but Leto subtly shook his head. The last thing he needed was a rift between street squad and SWAT.

Cathy only stared at the asari defiantly, ignorant and not overly concerned with the way things worked here on Omega.

"Cigar out, Naira," Herc rumbled from somewhere in the stairwell. When the asari complied a few SWAT members groaned, pissed off they didn't see a show down.

Cathy went over to another tech while Naira stubbed her cigar on the wall. Everything returned to normal and Leto was glad another crisis had been averted.

The crew barely settled into normal work when Kip popped his head in from the doorway. "Murdock!"

All eyes landed on the intruder as he smiled to his new partner. Janet sighed in relief and waved him over while everyone mumbled about disruptions. "Hey partner."

"Welcome to the squad," Kip greeted, being careful to step over some guts. "Can't believe I have a partner again," Kip said with a nod of greeting to Leto, "am I dreaming?"

"Careful, she's been eyeing the SWAT squad ever since we got here," Leto added with a wink. But there was no need because Janet was ecstatic and got straight to breaking down the scene for him.

"The vic was blown to pieces. We found fragments of a home-made bomb and my guess is he was strapped to the chair which was booby trapped to the door. Someone..." she shot a look towards the stairwell where Herc stood, "decided to charge in and sent our vic to the other afterlife. No ID just yet."

Leto was ready for Kip to dismiss the entire thing and walk out. For as long as he'd known the human, Kip was never one to meddle with things above his head. It was one of the reasons his friend loved street unit, no fuss, no muss and clear goals. Get the assholes and bring em' in. But something seemingly struck a chord with Kip as he took in the scene with growing suspicion.

"You know where we are, right?" Kip asked, eyeing his new partner.

Janet only shot him confused look. "Of course. Omega's top defence firm, no brainer..." Her eyes widened as she finally caught onto something.

"Clue me in guys?" Leto prompted, feeling lost in the dark.

Kip moved over to the dead man being assembled on the table and went pale. "Shit."

Leto and Janet popped up on either side of him.

"What is it?" Leto inquired, not sure he wanted an answer.

"Donald Levine," Kip reached out but quickly grabbed some tongs when Ross glared at him.

The name sounded so familiar unti it finally clicked in Leto's brain. Law on Omega was a farce, some sick joke devised to keep the Alliance happy. But outside terminus space when Omega's criminal elite needed representation it was Levine & Associates who represented them all. Well everyone except for Aria T'Loak who had no use for anything outside of Omega.

"Ok...how could you possibly know that?" Janet demanded, looking at Kip with skeptical wide eyes.

"He used to buy me lunch sometimes," Kip replied, snagging a charred piece of debris and holding it up high. "He's the only rich guy I know who used physical credits."

"Found the skull!" One of the techs announced from across the room before handing it off to Cathy. The young pathologist took it delicately. Most of the charred flesh was warped around a half collapsed brain case and skull. She brought it over and stretched the loose skin to reveal a clean hole at the forehead.

Doctor Ross hummed quietly beside them before officially confirming the conclusion on everyone's mind. "He appears to have been shot in the head."

* * *

_**21:00 hours June 2 2185—Gozu District, Apartment unit C54, L.T. Tarquin Coriolanus' residence—Lower Omega.**_

"I'm telling you, uncle. He's gone," Leto relayed as he primped his casual attire in the mirror. He knew that most of his friends would show up in armor, but this would mark the first time he's seen Meera in months and he wanted to make a great impression.

"You don't say?" Tarq replied from his easy chair in the tiny living room. The liquor glass in his hand was already down to the dregs.

Normally Leto wouldn't say much for his uncle's lack of enthusiasm. But it seemed that lately Tarq was exhausted almost every single night and didn't make much for good company.

Leto was tempted to ask what was wrong, but something always stopped him. Uncle Tarquin had his own life, his own issues and he's learned to deal with them just like that, on his own. He didn't need a nosey nephew nagging him outside the department.

So with that Leto squashed whatever sympathy he had and put up a brave face for his uncle. "I'm going to meet some friends tonight...if that's alright of course."

"Have fun." Tarq waved a lazy hand in the air, acting nothing like the cool-headed Lieutenant known to the force.

"I will," Leto replied, stepping for the door. But inner curiosity won over as he looked back. Although he had no inclination for detective work he found Omega's inner workings fascinating. "Ah, uncle...a question if you don't mind?"

He expected Tarq to brush him off or pretend to fall asleep, but was surprised when the turian flicked off the intergalactic speed challenge and levelled his thoughtful gaze to him. "What about?"

Leto swallowed hard, not sure if he was stepping on a trip mine of incoming anger or just stoking the fires for Tarq's curiosity. "Well...with Mr. Levine gone what happens to his clients?"

"He has associates, Leto. Provided they don't skip town everything will work out fine for his _clients_," Tarq spat out with some austerity that Leto knew wasn't directed at him.

The truth was Mr. Levine had been a sore spot for Omega's law enforcement for many years. But at the same time his defence of the criminally guilty maintained some façade of order. Now with him gone it was anybody's guess what the Alliance would handle the defence portion its courts.

Leto wanted to stay and talk more but the nightlife was calling for him and he already had a lot to mull over. So with a nod he tried to set his uncle in a better mood. "I hear you may have found the murder weapon that killed Liselle?"

"Who told you that?" Tarq grumbled, the harsh timbre of his voice translated to anger.

Leto shrugged and decided to end that line of questioning. "It's just something I heard. If that's true, congratu—"

"Have a great night, Leto. Don't stay up too late." With a dismissive wave Tarq returned to his screen and sipped the dregs of his cup.

Leto bowed out the door and wandered down the dingy halls in silence. Yes, something was definitely bothering uncle Tarq. But if he didn't want to talk about it, then that was his right. Pushing weary thoughts aside, Leto forced himself to think of all the friends he would see again, especially Meera.

* * *

**2200 hours—Lower level of the Afterlife Club**

Thank god Kip was alright. From the corner of his eye Leto could see his friend returning to his usual self and not the obnoxious nuisance he was outside. It was weird to find him arguing with the elcor doorman who was so familiar with them. But Leto grew up with the guy and knew the difference between a drunken Kip Jensen and a hurting Kip Jensen. So he kept a watchful eye on his pal.

"Something's on your mind," Meera stated, eroding the line of personal space with her sensual dancing. Leto tried to keep a small respectable distance between them despite himself. He didn't know what the deal was with Meera and Konan but he wasn't ready to find out tonight.

"Yeah? And how do you know that, Tarsim?" he tried to joke weakly but she only brought her visor closer to him. Her suit was new, not that impoverished one she wore undercover, this one was ornate and screamed 'fresh off the flotilla'. She was going for the innocent look tonight and it stirred something within him.

"Well I am an investigator." She twirled in an impressive maneuver which earned them some looks, before gently hooking his mandible and bringing him closer. "And my skills reveal that you're distracted."

"You're a narc, Tarsim," Leto teased, allowing himself to get dangerously close to that alluring mask, "there's a distinction."

"Minor details." She brushed him off as they continued to dance. "And lets pretend I didn't notice the change of subject," she said, her eyes glowing beneath that mask. Leto often fantasized about the kind of woman she was underneath but the picture always morphed into her visor. This suit was as much a part of her personality as that seductive voice that haunted his dreams.

"You read my mind," Leto replied, not sure where all this courage was coming from. When the song ended everyone stopped and started to sway to the ancient chillout remixes filtering through the speakers courtesy of DJ Madura.

Leto was about to head back to their table when a slow dance began. Meera snagged his arm and before he knew it the two of them were one of a handful of couples sober enough to sway through the dance. He was nervous at first but her slow movements and the relaxing caress on his shoulders melted him into it. Perhaps there really was nothing between her and Konan he thought as the world disappeared from his vision and all he could care about was the bold quarian in his arms.

"Murdock tells me they had an interesting case on their hands," Meera said after a while, keeping their pace slow and languid.

Leto wished they could just enjoy the moment in silence but knew this was her way of trying to get him to relax and it was working.

He nodded lightly. "Fernando passed it onto major crimes," Leto said quietly. "Janet wasn't too happy."

"I bet," Meera replied, "first major case like that and having to let it go. That is rough." She gently shook her head. "Did they get any leads at least?"

This was really neither the time nor place. The couples around them were a mix of criminal elite and bottom dwellers, but looking around at their glassed expressions Leto would be surprised if any of them woke up in familiar beds tonight, let alone remember pieces of this conversation.

"Well..." Leto huffed, taking the lead as he tried to remember the slow dance moves Kip once taught him. "I'm not 100% sure what direction this case will take."

Meera looped her hands around his neck and tilted her head quizzically. "But what do you think?"

"I think...there's evidence of a sniper round being the real cause of death before the body was rigged," Leto relayed, unable to help himself. Though he wanted no part in investigations his mind wouldn't stop running the analytics of where the evidence was pointing. Of course it didn't help that her touch wouldn't let him think straight so he found himself spewing every minor detail of the investigation.

"Someone shoots the body then rigs it to blow?" Meera paraphrased with a shake of her head. "That shit is messed up."

"Agreed." As they swayed to the music their bodies came closer and Leto found all earlier apprehension fade away. Who knew talking about gruesome crimes was such an icebreaker. "But there's another thing...I think someone might be setting up archangel."

"What are you talking about?" She stilled abruptly to his disappointment thankfully but her hands didn't leave his neck.

"The round was the same one they dug out of that batarian he shot for us last night," Leto said, trying to commit the feel of her suit beneath his touch to memory. With the way this conversation was going that's all this night would end up being. A lovely memory.

"That means nothing," Meera protested, sliding her hands down to his chest. "How many people have access to poly-carbon accelerator rounds?"

"That's just it. The markings are identical," Leto relayed, not sure why he was telling her all of this. She was bound to find out on her own anyways. "It won't be long until we'll be forced to bring him in."

"Dammit." Meera's hands left him completely and Leto found himself instantly missing her touch. Without warning she stepped away and headed for the lower exit. "Tell the others I'll catch up with them later," Meera said over her shoulder.

"Wait, where are you going?" He called after her. But it was too late, the swallow of music and people drowned him out and once again Leto Medvidus was without his favorite quarian.

**A/N: Bonus points for anyone who can name one of the many references in this fic so far. Here's a hint, two are in the title alone.**


	9. Death of a client

**1400 hours—June 2 2185—Lower Omega (asari Corporal Soma Suresh, Metro precinct Jailor.)**

Soma put her feet up on the bolted down duty desk and stared absently into her datapad as the commotion down the hall grew louder. Apparently Mac had enough of their new gear supplier and finally came down to give him a piece of his mind.

"Bimo, I'm sick of your shit. How many faulty omni-tools are you going to give my people?"

"The agreement..._shhhhh._..was that they service their own equipment," the volus explained. He looked cozy behind the bullet proof glass of his armory window.

Soma shook her head. The volus was likely to become finger food sometime during his tenure. Every cop in the precinct knew they could get better gear from street vendors, but the dumbasses of the Intergalactic Police Association Committee (IPAC) sent this volus crook as their official quartermaster.

"Street squad alone goes through one every 48 hours. I'm not made of money!" Mac yelled, hooking his thumbs through his belt buckle and giving Bimo the evil eye. "Start distributing better shit or I'll personally toss your ass off station."

"I don't take threats..._shhhh..._lightly," the tiny ball replied, not knowing when to just deflate and hide.

A turian regular, locked in a cell across from Soma's desk, grasped the bars with interest. "20 creds says the volus doesn't take crap."

"I'll take your twenty creds," Soma drawled, just loud enough for the turian to hear. The idiot was nicknamed Lucky and belonged to the small squad of Talon members that were rounded up with Lex's raid. Either they've sunk so low in the totem pole that they were now playing security for the human 14K drug outfit or this guy had a major case of irony. It was his fourth lock-up in one week. Roberry, battery, kidnapping it was all piled sky high and yet the Alliance court couldn't find it in their busy schedule to slap the guy with some actual charges.

Bored with the crap that passed for news these days Soma tossed her tablet aside and strolled up to the cell. Lucky had some friends today, a few human 14K members high out of their minds, doped up on Meera's fake shit and Mr. Vorcha who resorted to spewing profanities about a 'Captain Gavon' every two minutes.

Soma leaned against the bars only to grimace at Lucky's bad breath. "Where'd you stash the money?"

Lucky held up a fistful of credits in a pouch. "Right here. Your guys were too busy with my weapons!" he announced proudly with a hint of glee in his yellow eyes.

In a swift move Soma held out her palm and beckoned for the credits. Lucky seemed to enjoy her close proximity and relinquished them without thinking. Prize in hand she jingled the coins, there was at least fifty creds in his little pouch, good thing the idiot didn't know how to count.

"That qualifies as a bribe you know," Lucky stated, his mandibles moving up to a turian smile she didn't find too ugly.

Soma only pocketed the cash and shook her head. "No deal. But thanks for the tip."

Mac finished chomping on Bimo and stomped away in search of the next pain in his neck. Lex Riley barely had time to jump out of the way as he entered the jailing unit. "Lex, my office when you're done with Ying Ko," Mac bellowed as he stormed past.

"What the hell's up with him?" Lex asked, scratching at the skin below his patched left eye. Soma never understood why he couldn't just fix the damn thing and be done with it. Humans were always such suckers for dramatizing everything.

"Equipment problems," Soma replied, holding a hand to stop his next question, "you don't want to know."

Lex mulled over this. For someone so intense he had no trouble being just as clueless sometimes. Soma had long learned to leave him alone when he was like this but the pull of curiosity was too great. "You're ready for Ying Ko?"

His gaze locked on her, ready, targeted and enraged that she would ever imply he was not. "What do you think?" He ground out curtly.

"Hey, how about a little respect for the lady?" They both turned to Lucky, that fool. Lex had murder in his eye but Soma wouldn't let him kill her only ticket out of the office for today.

"Hey." she stepped between them. "He has court in an hour and I need him to look pretty for the drones. Remember all that humane training IPAC had us take? I don't want to repeat it."

Lex smirked, that crooked smile perpetually plastered on his lips annoyed everyone to no end. But it's not like anyone was stupid enough to clue him in on it.

"Whatever," he sighed reluctantly before peering at the vegetable-like 14K clan. "How're they doing over there?"

"They're spaced." Soma remarked, shaking her head at the waste of human lives.

"They'll be more than that when I'm through with their boss," Lex announced through his sneer. "Guy's got a stash of shit back at his place that'll earn him the death penalty. If I dig up his earth suppliers this'll be the case of the century."

Soma swallowed the impulse to tell him to keep dreaming, lest he remembered the grimy turian behind her. "Yeah, well good luck in there."

But Lex was already walking through the door of the interrogation room as Some exhaled. That was a close call, another word from Lucky and he would be nothing but a puddle of brain matter.

"He's a tough guy, huh?" Lucky teased but Soma was not in the mood.

"I'd be more worried about your trial." She slapped on the cuffs rather roughly and opened his cell. "It's your fourth strike and I hear they only give three."

"What the hell do humans know about law anyways?" Lucky asked, as she shoved him out the door and locked the cell behind him. Not that there was any point. It's not as if they others would regain enough brain cells to plan an escape and Mr. Vorcha had a bum leg.

The drive to the surface courts was anything but relaxing. In Omega, two hands on the controls and police markings wouldn't save you from rush hour traffic, which happened to be every hour. Folks practically drove at FTL speeds which made Omega's skyways the most hazardous driving lines in the galaxy.

Making a tight corner to avoid the abandoned central refinery, Soma gained altitude and broke free of Omega's dense traffic. Their ascension to the top began and she couldn't help but steal glances at fleeting mass of lower Omega as they got closer to the surface. From up here the decayed streets and gang wars seemed so insignificant.

"What are the chances I'll walk away from this again?" Lucky asked from the little slit in the prisoner window.

Good question. They've already given him more than enough chances, but it was hard to tell if they were doing it for his sake or just to look good. After all his petty crimes never directly hurt anyone, Lucky was clearly just one of the many nuisances which populated Omega. If this was Thessia he would've been exiled or forced into a work camp by now. But Omega was in her infancy when it came to harsh punishment and as long as everyone insisted on the human way of doing things, the law would continue to be a joke.

"Beats me," Soma replied as she pulled into the vibrant courthouse parking lot. It resembled the grand cathedral back in Thessia. A beautiful garden of exotic plants lined the entrance in neat perfect rows. The ornate fountains in the marble courtyard spewed the cleanest water in Omega, it seemed to shimmer in the light. Unlike lower Omega, these bastards on the surface enjoyed real light from the beautiful star of Sahrabarik. The daylight seemed to favor the gorgeous building, catching each golden pillar at just the right angle to look majestic. A monolith of architectural design, the courthouse stood five stories tall and housed every level of court IPAC demanded. Yet despite its grandeur this sacred place was desecrated by Alliance branded judges who were too timid to wreck their illusion of justice.

"Don't I get a kiss good luck?" Lucky asked as Soma unlinked his chains. Sometimes she swore he only got in trouble just to annoy her.

"Haha," Soma deadpanned as one of the useless members of the 2033rd came to collect him and Soma let go of his arm. "I'll probably be your ride home again. So try to enjoy the bullshit while it lasts."

"Yes ma'am," Lucky teased as the human officer dragged him away.

The cases were all over the place. Soma sat with the other jailors, most of them making a point not to talk to one another. It only made the long wait that much worse as waves of small court proceedings were broken up by installments in long standing trials.

Many of the defence lawyers were veterans of Levine and Associates but they seemed missing their bite today. Some even prompted the judge to ask if there were really no objections to be had.

The minor crime lords got off scott free which was no surprise. Levine's crew made sure of it despite their lack of enthusiasm, once the major cases wrapped the slew of small claims and petty crimes began.

Some human woman was fined for vagrancy, the funny part was that she was forced out of her apartment for violating the newest occupancy rule. The judge gave a surprisingly harsh punishment of four weeks in an IPAC work camp, wherever the hell those were.

The next case saw a man defend himself against another man he claimed stole his fruit stand. The judge laughed them both out of court before slamming his gavel.

It took another two sentences of work camps before Lucky's case finally hit the docket. His lawyer was a veteran Soma recognized. Anthony 'Tony' Price worked for Levine and Associates ever since the place opened up, but either due to bad blood or just shitty luck he was stuck with petty cases. Nevertheless he was good at them. Anthony's way of defending clients by trying to seek the judges' empathy was a skill that would've made him successful especially on Illium. But alas Tony Price was wasting his time here on Omega, trying to make a name for himself like all the other poor schmucks.

Both counsellors, as they called them, stepped forward to speak with the new judge, Dwight Francis. With a few sharp nods and whispered conversations Lucky was brought in completely shackled. He winked to Soma who only shook her head at his antics.

"Would the accused please step forward," the judge demanded. Lucky was shoved forward unceremoniously by some jerk of an officer.

Meanwhile Tony Price was packing his bags before the proceedings even began. Soma raised a brow in confusion. _Did the idiot forget he had a case today?_

"For the crime of racketeering, assault, battery and participation with a known crime syndicate I find you guilty beyond a doubt," the judge announced.

Soma felt her jaw hit the basement. Lucky seemed taken aback and suddenly it was as if his good humor left a shell of a turian standing before the judge. "I..." Lucky stammered, but the officer behind him wacked him with a nightstick for interrupting.

"Upon inception of our three strike law, I sentence you to the death penalty," Dwight Francis announced without so much as a glance at Lucky.

Soma made her way to Tony just before he could sneak out the side doors. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she demanded in a low voice. "You're his lawyer."

"And he's guilty," Tony replied in a dreary tone. "I don't have time for this so if there's nothing else I need to go, ma'am."

The judge banged his gavel as he tried to regain order. Lucky fought for all he was worth, giving the human officer a bloody nose. It wasn't long before a back-up squad came through the door and restrained him.

Soma fought not to interfere as her biotics pulsed through her. This wasn't law this was a fucking slaughterhouse now.

* * *

**2200 hours—Lower Afterlife Club**

Soma downed another glass of turian ale. It burned down her gullet but she didn't care, anything to take the sting of the day away was better than stewing alone at the barracks.

"Shit, Soma. I'm sorry," Janet Murdock tried to reassure.

"You should've seen it, Janet. It was a fucking slaughter," Soma replied, not willing to kill this line of thinking. "If this were Thessia everyone would be involved. We'd have huge public juries, the accused would have advocates not these crooked lawyers. Lucky would've had a proper trial not this...whatever the fuck you call it..."

Soma stopped herself and stared at Janet. What was the bloody point? No matter how many times she rehashed the scenario, the injustice, she could read it all there in Janet's look of sympathy. Yet she didn't have to as Janet vocalized it anyways, "we're not on Thessia, babe."

"Guess not," Soma replied with a defeated huff.

Janet bumped her shoulder and jut her chin out towards a wirey human. "Cute huh?"

"Way too sketchy," Soma replied wearily, yet still falling into the routine of one of their favorite games of_ who would you fuck?_ "What about the bombshell on the poles. She looks new."

Janet nodded in consideration as they both watched the young asari hone in her pole dancing skills. "I'd do her," Janet replied.

"Wait," Soma turned to her quizzically. "Aren't you seeing someone?"

"What, you don't think she'd be down for a threesome?" Janet asked with a wink, seemingly glad to see Soma returning to her usual self.

Soma only shook her head and chuckled despite herself. It took two hours to vent all of her anger and Murdock was a good friend for listening, but they came here to celebrate and hit on the pretty ones, not to reminisce about injustice.

The music was pounding with what DJ Madura called the Mellow Sonic Remix of Afterlife's favorite anthem, but it was anything but mellow. As the bodies danced all around them Soma forced herself to drink in hopes of succumbing to apathy.

"Hey, are you planning to sit there and feel sorry for yourself all night long?" Meera Tarsim hollered, from the dance floor where she and Konan were putting everyone else to shame. "Get over here and shake that perfect ass, Soma!"

Soma laughed at the slightly intoxicated quarian's seductive beckon. But then her gaze fell to the stairs where Leto Medvidus was supporting a very familiar street officer in a tux that's seen better days. However, he did look stunning outside the standard patrol armor.

"Look what the bird dragged in," Soma remarked, eyeing Leto in what she swore was the first time she saw the turian relaxed.

Soma slid over as Leto approached and deposited a slightly drunken Kip Jensen beside her before taking a seat next to Janet. Like Kip, Leto was also out of uniform making her and Janet the only ones still in black armor.

"I found him wandering the streets singing something about freedom," Leto said, as Jensen looked up with a wane smile. If it weren't for the fumes of booze radiating from him, Jensen would've still passed for sober.

"Are you _that_ happy we lost the case, Kip?" Janet asked, with a hint of irritation. Though her eyes told a different story as she looked over her new partner, there was understanding if not a bit of concern in them.

"Come on, Murdock. Let it go," Jensen pleaded, managing not to slur a single word as he rubbed his eyes. "Leave the boring parts to the detectives. We did good out there. Right, Leto?"

Soma noticed Leto was absent in this conversation. Scratching his fringe he made a poor impression of trying not to sneak glimpses at Tarsim's moves on the dance floor.

Soma decided to break the ice by calling Leto out, "why don't you ask her to dance? Konan's a big boy he won't mind."

All eyes whipped to Medvidus who suddenly seemed to shrink. The young turian was harmless, just like Du...no. Not going there tonight. She had drunk enough of Lucky's memories to last a nighttime.

As Janet and Kip joined in on ragging their friend, Leto found the courage to stand as Konan neared with a drink in hand. The two turians nodded in silent understanding but that wasn't enough for their group of spectators so Soma found some liquid courage and heckled out to Tarsim. "Hey, Meera, why don't you show Leto how to dance?"

"Yeah good idea," Konan agreed as he quickly snagged Leto's spot and pushed the other turian onto the dance floor. "In the meantime I want to buy a round for my friends here," he said, tipping the waitress as she came with their drinks. Konan pushed his spare drink towards Jensen and grabbed another from the pretty asari maiden before raising a glass in toast.

Soma sighed and raised her glass high. "You got a speech for these two," she asked Konan quizzically.

The turian shrugged and cleared his throat. "To Kip Jensen and Janet Murdock. I know pronounce you partners in crime." The two humans smirked and Soma couldn't help but smile as Konan held for silence. "I hope that you two continue...what is it you humans say? Taking ass and kicking names?"

The new partners burst out laughing and Soma founder herself chuckling up at the stupidity of the line. Konan needed to lay off the sauce.

Kip raised his drink to Janet. "Here's to kicking ass."

"And taking names," she finished as they both clinked glasses and sealed their partnership.

Everyone settled in for another evening of watching Leto make pathetic attempts to be a gentleman while his quarian friend was in a league of her own.

"So is it true? Levine is really dead?" Konan asked to the background of DJ Madura's chillout track.

"As a doornail," Janet replied, with a shake of her head. "Now Soma is saying his lawyers lost their balls and tapped out of their cases. I bet Faber is on cloud nine."

"Well my money was always on Faber being the last one standing," Soma chimed in. Although Omega's second defence lawyer was always struggling against Levine's shadow, Soma knew Faber's good ethics and multi-species staff meant people would actually get a fair defence.

Soma noticed Janet's eyes light up but it wasn't until the famous DJ Madura actually came up to their table did her brows rise. She had never been in such close proximity with the musical goddess and what's more was that she looked stunning in that red dress. Madura had a mid-length pixie cut humans found fashionable, she was of average height with a slim build and tasteful assets. But her most distinguishing feature was that sly smile and how it made her dark eyes light up when they settled on the table crew.

"Look at the big-shot street squad members," Madura said, eyeing Kip and Janet appraisingly. "Thought you cops would stay away from this place given what happened."

"Well you know us, Tiffany," Kip announced, resting his chin on one hand. "Where there's music we're not far behind."

Soma's brows shot even higher. They knew her by name? Oh my god this dreary night was going to end on a good note.

"This is, Soma," Janet introduced, probably noticing her drooling. "She's a huge fan."

"Nice to meet you." The DJ nodded her way and Soma felt like melting into a puddle. She was just so beautiful in a rebel-like way, she couldn't form a coherent thought and just stared like an idiot.

Konan's mandibles quaked. "Give her some time, Tiff. She's usually more articulate than this," he added with a wink to Soma.

"You're done already?" Janet asked with a hint of surprise. It was rare to see the DJ mingle before 2am, and when she did she was always surrounded by admirerers.

Madura shook her head and bit her lip. "Just came to say congratulations and to tell you that I'm dedicating an extended mix to you two. Now that you're _partners and all_," Madura said with a hint of accusation that was drowned out by their collective cheer. The DJ laughed and hovered for an akward moment before turning to go."Nice to meet you, Soma. Bye guys."

Murdock looked after Madura's retreating form with confusion. "What the hell was that about?" Janet whispered, looking to Kip for answers.

Jensen laughed and signalled for a refill. "I'm the last guy you wanna ask. Believe me."

But Soma couldn't wipe the stars from her eyes. This night wasn't going to be a total disaster because DJ Madura now knew her by name. It made her world better and nothing, not even Konan's amused smile would dampen Soma's joy. "Why didn't you guys tell me you knew the musical goddess?"

Janet gave a playful shrug. "Where would be the fun in that?"

Soma stopped a waitress and ordered a round for all of them by placing the pouch of credits on the waitress tray. "Tonight, we'll drink in memory of Lucky, in celebration of two badasses and to everything else that's right and fucked up in this world," Soma declared, determined to remember this as a good outing.

"Hear hear," the others chimed in and clinked glasses. The booze flowly freely between the squad members as they rediscovered the power of shared tabs.

**A/N: Special thanks to Sharrukin who explained the asari legal system in-depth to me. **

**Also, to anyone who is a grammar centric beta, please send me a PM if you're interested in beta reading this story.  
**


	10. Word on the street: Pete

**1400 hours June 2 2185—Front steps of Kima District residence #348****—**Lower Omega. (Pete, Information Broker)  


I'm sorry son, I wish I had news from the shadow broker but he's not saying a word about Shepard.

No, I've kept an ear to the ground and there's nothing intel in regards to Shepard for sale. You look exhausted. Why don't you grab a seat, breathe for a while and I'll tell you about something else?

Yup, have a seat. It's alright sonny I don't bite. Can't chew much with these bad gums.

Here's a story for ya. Do you know how the precinct got its name? No? Well let me tell ya.

See those cables up above? They used to suspend a rail. Yep I kid you not. Back when I was a young colonist still wet behind the ears, my parents brought me to Omega. At the time there was none of this Surface vs Lower Omega crap. Everyone worked on the surface and lived below.

Yeah it was a hard life but one that people were more than happy to live. You see back on Earth, and please forgive me if you came from there and know this already. But back on Earth there was this thing called a monorail. Fast as a whistle! Could get you across the country in half-an-hour and we had a whole system of them back on Earth. Called em' Metros. So you bet your credits when they mined Omega they built a similar type of subway system that funneled workers and equipment to the surface and back.

Why? Well the contractors were greedy people. If we left our stuff up there, you can bet they'd try to ruin it and sell us replacement parts. Everyone working for them knew they would go bust, so the folks were smart enough to only mine the outside for Eezo while developing the city underground. Yeah, maybe they would've gotten more money if they mined Omega for all it's worth. But look around you, son. Look at this city free from major galactic bullshit and tell me they did wrong.

The Cabinet? Pfft. That's nothing compared to the BS Earth alone has to deal with. At least here there is only one governing body and they leave you alone for the most part. Makes elections that much easier. If you could call them elections that is.

Ah yes, so back to my story. Sorry I tend to ramble. Not many visitors here in Kima district. So the colonists built a rail system. When the contractors crumbled like everyone predicted, the citizens continued on, selling eezo independently as a cooperative. It was amazing I tell ya, so many people working together. We felt like the most autonomous colony in the galaxy. Yeah they tried sending us some Alliance big wigs but they were quickly chased out. See they didn't want to piss off us miners because we were their biggest eezo supplier and they couldn't just pick us off because who'd take our place and mine that stuff for em'? Drones will only get you so far and they still have to be operated. So we had the upper hand and it was a winning situation.

Well like all good things our harmony didn't last. As soon as the Alliance introduced mass effect core shielding, they made Surface district habitable. Suddenly our _leaders_ got greedy and started building on the land. Huge properties like you wouldn't believe, magnificent apartment units, tons of contract land up for business head offices. Piece-by-piece they sold our surface to the highest bidders from all over the galaxy. Before we knew it, the most affluent creatures wanted to wash their hands clean of the civil unrest brooding just beneath them. So the Metro that afforded cheap transit between levels was destroyed. Our police force was cut in half. Most of the force went to Surface district and that's how the 2033rd Surface precinct was born. The old precinct here on lower Omega was shut down. That's when the scum of the galaxy came in and had a field day. So while the surface enjoyed an influx of business and security, we had the opposite effect where low-lifes and that queen bitch Aria T'Loak all fought to control what was left of the below.

That's when a small militia rose up.

Yes, we weren't as highly trained as the Talons or the Blue Suns, but we managed to restore enough order to protect the normal citizens. When the first cabinet finally opened their eyes to our situation we were granted seed money to start our own precinct. We named it in honor of the one system that used to unite Omega, the Metro. Yeah we got our wish, now we have one of the toughest police forces in the galaxy. No, there ain't enough of them. There will never be enough. But the cops we have, they do the job right.

Ha! No the cabinet doesn't fund them anymore. Truthfully I'm not sure how those kids get paid these days. All I know is that 2077th Metro Precinct is all we've got and I'm damn glad someone's picking up their tab. Just wish I knew who.


	11. Ghost Stories

**1500 hours June 2 2185—Abandoned Refinery—Lower Omega. (Codenamed: Ghost)**

It all started simple enough for Erik Olembe. His comfy job at Central Control demanded he do absolutely nothing while the entire department was down. It would have been easy to just retire and serve drinks or spout useless stories like Pete, but the kid stuck it out and tried to make it work. He spent every hour of the past week trying to fix those damn terminals but nothing worked.

I made sure of it.

My contacts reported his frustration and yes, I feel kind of guilty about that. But it was for the best. With Omega's emergency response system down I found it easy to focus on the big fish without any distractions or civilian casualties.

But that was before they killed Levine.

I feel awful not because a crook is dead, but because the same thing could've happened to a regular citizen. Hell for all I know it probably did on more than one occasion. I put innocent people at risk...I suppose that's nothing new given my history, but it still makes me sick.

But what choice did I have? Cerberus was getting their hands on Omega and they didn't care who got in the way. I'm not sure of their long-term plan yet but I'm determined to figure it out at any cost. Yet I suppose the cost was too high this time.

With Levine's death I've learned that in my quest for vengeance, for answers, I need to leave the smallest trace possible. I need to become a ghost because I realize now that I can't be everywhere at once. I can't protect the common folks if I'm going straight for Cerberus' jugular and for the first time in months I'm slowly considering the possibility that the police department might actually be an asset.

"Yes! I can't believe the systems are coming back online," Olembe exclaimed over the omni-chat. "We have contact with our officers again!"

"Good." I smile. No, this city wasn't hopeless. As long as people like Olembe were willing to do their jobs this city could be saved. I alone can't fight Cerberus, but Liara assures me I don't have to.

"Sir," Olembe replies over the faint cheer of the few devoted dispatchers of central control, "to whom do we owe our thanks."

The kid is smart. He's trying to prolong the conversation so that he can track me. It's just too bad I'm one step ahead.

I hang up and type a message which will appear at his workstation in exactly twenty-eight seconds.

—_Don't follow a ghost.—_

With that I rise to look out from the window of the abandoned refinery I know call my home. Skycars race by at impossible speeds and their trails leave a wavy bloodline that acts as a pulse for the city. A city I'm ready to liberate from its silent attackers.

Cerberus, I'm coming for you.


End file.
